What is it about the game of dating that is just so...you know…? It is not like riding a bicycle. Don't believe the people who tell you that. It's far more fun but far more dangerous.
Back in the saddle, I’ve been privy to one of those conversation stoppers in conversation starter clothing that rears its ugly head at every girl’s night out and every first sip.
Friday was a handsome doctor, great on paper, and pouring Chianti. He told me that after my extremely late decision to read his copy of “The Game” (yes, I know I’m a year and a half past the fact but I’ve never been very cool or hip to what the kids are doing), I’d want to become a lesbian. Guys were just horrible beasts, he went on, all dogs. It was enough to make anyone jump the bench and make way for the other team apparently.
Huh. I looked at him sideways. Was shooting himself in the foot part of some unspoken appeal? He was undoing the fact that he used to be a sponsored skateboarder before medical school with every breath. (Kidding, kidding).
Then, realizing his rookie mistake, he retracted.
“Though you’re way too hot to be a lesbian.” Nervous smile. Riiiiiight.
I finished the bottle before I palmed the book and kicked away in my boots, earrings flashing, eyes to the door as a joke.
“How about a lipstick lesbian?” He went to Harvard, I would have thought he’d be a little more PC. Oh well.
Off to read some more pick-up secrets. So I can deflect cheesoid lines from a mile away...cause it’s been a little while…but, don't worry...I'm already cringing at myself...
UPDATE: Blogger's not letting me post a comment but I wanted to qualify this: just kidding around--thought what he said was funny considering the subject matter...I'd never run out based on something someone said, especially with my own case of foot-in-mouth disease...
