So we walk over to little Italy, a little neighborhood here in down town San Diego and it must be said that I was wearing these great shoes that were a bit large for me, especially the right shoe. I was walking kinda weird, I think, because when I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, which is par for the course for me, he asked if I was drunk. No, I said. Knowing full well that’s exactly what I needed to be right now. Getting through this evening would be one thing, but screwing with him by playing this man-eater part that I was determined to play tonight, definitely warranted me kicking back a few.

“What would you like to drink miss?” The waiter asked as we took our seats at this little pizza spot.

“What do you have on tap”, I reply.

Christ, I should have ordered two at once.

He runs off a small but distinguished list of beers, all of which I fancy.

“I’ll take a Peroni”, I say. And my date doubles the order and we, I mean I, pound the first one and order a second within ten minutes of the initial order.

We order a veggie pizza and talk a bit.

By this point I start using the persona that I was gonna use in order to screw with this womanizer a bit. I feelsing like a little turning of the tables is just what this man deserves.

“You probably have women fawning all over you, don’t you?” I said.

With that comment he turned the color of the traffic lights I perpetually run here in San Diego, and for me, that was validation enough that my little plan was working marvelously.

Some flirtatious little stares and gestures that suggested latter kissing, led us walking back to his place.

We sat on his couch and began talking. I have to admit that I was more than happy being in his company. Did I mention he was incredibly attractive??

And so begins the pre-kissing-banter, consisting of this and uninteresting that. All of a sudden he leans in to kiss me. And it was not awkward in the least. It felt good. I was being kissed by a man that knew how to kiss a woman. I was being kissed by a man that had kissed many a woman. I wanted to consummate our fledgling relationship right that very moment, but by no means would I give into this. By no means would I sleep with this man tonight, or ever, for that matter. And so the six-dates-and-or-one-month, which-ever-comes-first-rule of mine kicks in, and I kick in into low gear. I don’t remember how I wound up straddling him, but I immediately get off his lap.

“I feel like I’m 18 years old again”, I tell him.

He giggles.

I giggle.

In retrospect, I wish this story had more to offer. I wish I could tell you there was much more of a climactic ending then what actually happened. I wish this for more than just story telling sake. For my life’s sake, I wish there was more. But, I called it on this one. He was the quintessential asshole that probably never listened to a word I uttered. He stared at my boobs, though. And he did ask if he could smell my pits. Yes, that was probably some sort of a sign that I should be on my way. So I went on my way; my way to being alone, yet again. But I don’t have to contend anymore with armpit smellers, and that gets me through the day.