Carlo. A friend I'd been playing five-a-side football with on Thursday evenings for years. He was also 48, also had kids, and also had one of those jobs that paid the bills but drained you.
After a match, while the others were changing, we had a chat. With that quiet discretion men have when they finally let their guard down.
He told me his story. Identical to mine. Doctor saying 'everything's fine,' Cialis in secret, wife pulling away without understanding why.
"Then I realized the problem wasn't hormonal. It was physical — arteries, nitric oxide, prostate. And I found something that tackled it all at once."
He showed me Boostman. One capsule a day. No explicit references on the packaging — if Federica had seen it on the nightstand, I would have told the truth: it's an energy supplement. And I wouldn't have been lying.
What convinced me was simple: Carlo wasn't selling me anything. He was a family man like me who had found something that worked. He had no reason to tell me a story.