Of course Iggie was Neanderthal. Literally. But at least he was honest. What you see was what you got with Iggie, always. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but always listened intently when Julie spoke, as if he was trying intently to pluck some sense out of her words. Which he was, actually, doing.
Iggie was fit, uncomplicated, and brought an interesting personality to the table. And bison. He had no pretensions, did not look upon her as inferior; in fact he looked upon her with lust. That was refreshing, as Julie had passed the half-century mark. Sure, she was still sexy, all her friends told her, and she was still actively dating, but the guys she met were so… selfish, predictable, lazy, and dishonest. They felt she should be grateful for their attentions. Grateful!
Iggie was grateful for her company. He brought her thoughtful gifts: small birds, pretty, smooth stones, dead rabbits. He was remarkably well-endowed, which had never been a deal-breaker for Julie, but was kind of a nice, unexpected bonus, all the same.
With regular bathing, and perhaps a bit of dental work, and maybe normal clothing, Iggie had potential. Julie saw it, if no one else did.