Eight-year-old me was without a grove of chest hair or a hairline caravan migrating to the plains of his back but something he and I still share is the love of poking women. Poking as in teasing sprinkled with bits of joking banter of course. As if sitting Indian style tethered to a jungle gym was once again a mid day habit, I still find myself teasing the women I like. Though instead of pushing them into puddles of mud, light hearted jokes are my new weapon of choice. Pretty mature right?
Depending on the woman, like my most recent Match.com date Wendy, my odd intensity may vary. For some reason I have a constant urge to test my boundaries but last night’s date didn’t seem to have any. Trust me I tried to find them. From discussing both our intentions to rufie the other to covering the erectile dysfunctioning topic of afterbirth, I had no effect.
The entire evening I waited for that dull stare or awkward silence. But Wendy only followed with whit or laughter I could marry in order to hear every day. I tend to fall for women that laugh at anything I say like my moms does, which is definitely some creepy Freudian insight. Don’t you hate when that dead bastard is right?
So stay tuned folks and I’ll let you know how Part 2 goes. For some reason she said yes.