Mr. Footless would like more sex

Yesterday Mr. Footless woke me up from a tired sleep at 5:30 am with a blood sugar of 26.  Anything under 40 means ambulance call due to being either totally non compus or combative and uncooperative.  So they lined him and packed him off to the emergency room.
I picked him up about 7:30.  He was apologetic, sort of, and told me that he had a lovely day of my driving him around on errands set up. 
I had a day with visiting a friend and doing a bit of shopping with no one in the car with me in mind
  I got back about three and was altering a dress and adding the snaps and hemming down the facings when Mr Footless asked me to go down to the pawn shop and let him look at a new telly as the one we have had for the last ten years is giving notice that it is soon to be on it's way to the recycle.
He added that he would like to take me out to dinner.  So OK that's nice and the dress and I got into the truck and we went down to the pawn shop, and then we went off to eat.  He said that he was feeling a bit funny and when he got to the restaurant he was showing signs of having a low.  I fed him a glucose and got inside with him.  Mr. Footless likes the salad bar at this place and he made noises about picking up a salad and it wasn't until he got to the end of the bar minus any food that I realized that he was in a lot more trouble than I might have thought   
The upshot of all this preliminary history is that about 5:00 pm I was putting in a second call to 911 and they were treating Mr. Footless in the middle of this restaurant in the middle of the evening rush on a Saturday night.  His Blood sugar was 30. Of course they bundled him off to the Emergency room again leaving me to figure out what to do next. 
The manager couldn't have been nicer.  The waitress was utterly kind.  I ordered my (and his) meal to go and sat at the bar until it was ready.  They offered me a shot of tequila to calm my nerves.  Too bad I don't drink. I can just imagine what that might have been like on an empty stomach, Me being all of 105 pounds of completely pissed off. That wouldn't have ended well.
It turns out that Mr. Footless had an object lesson in why you don't take a bolus dose for food until you are heading down to the restaurant, and what happens if you do.
Much later, after bed time when I was sinking into sleep Mr. Footless suggested that we hadn't been close for a few weeks and maybe we should......
And you wouldn't want to be there for what I said.