Not all that long ago I met a man in a bar. We laughed and danced, he walked me home and asked for my phone number. How 1950s, wouldn't you say. It was nice.
A week went by and he didn't call. It's not the first time a man has not called. But I thought this one would. He didn't strike me as a player.
Another week went by.
Here are the things I knew about him:
His age, first name (both legal and common), his profession and the neighbourhood in which he lived. I knew the year he was born and what he looked like. I knew that he was more fun on the dance floor than I've had with a man in a really long time. And I knew he kissed well.
I went online. Within half an hour I had his email address and sent him the following message:
Hello,
Never flirt in a bar with a librarian, because we WILL find you! : )
Since you haven't called I figured:
a) you are married
b) you didn't like me as much as you did when you were drunk
c) you lost my phone number
d) you blacked out the entire evening
Care to let me know?
signed,
tall beautiful blonde you met 'in orbit'
I heard from him the next day.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
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