“You don’t know the one about the Peruvian boy who had his finger stuck in the hole of the dam?”

She blinked, coming back into the room around her.  The date wasn’t over, she was still sitting there in her uncomfortable first-impression outfit.  The daydream she’d been on was much better than this real-life moment.  She had to see it through – she was hungry. “No, it’s not ringing any bells for me.”

That appeared to be the right answer.  He launched off on what she could tell from the front end would be a long story.  Long enough for her to return to the daydream.  She shifted a bit in her chair, adjusting the skirt to maintain her modesty, and tilted her head to give the appearance of attention.  Her mind wandered back to the happy place she’d been in on and off this entire date.  The cozy room with the fireplace and all the books and the beautiful brunette.  She knew she was still in the restaurant with the overly chatty date.  In her daydream, the brunette was reading to her from one of the heavy books, pausing for gravitas at all the right moments, while the fire crackled away in the background.  When her date came to the end of the story with what was clearly a punch line she shifted again and gave him a bright smile as she shook her head and said, “oh, Brian.  I didn’t see that coming at all”, and held her breath, hoping that was a reasonable response.

He slapped the table, beyond proud of himself, and said, “That’s what they all say!  I love that one!”, just a little too loudly.  The other diners displayed varying levels of annoyance with him, all of which went right over his head.

“So, tell me more about you?  I’ve been talking too much!”

She hid her sigh as she sat up straighter.  The daydreaming portion of the evening was over, clearly, and she needed to sing for her supper.

“Me?  I don’t know where to start.  I’m better at answering questions than at volunteering things.  What do you want to know?” She always deferred to them, let them drive.  They all had different reasons for going on dates, and different “dream girls”.  She wanted to keep them interested in her for a bit, just for a few dates, and gather enough information about them to know how to extricate herself when they seemed to be getting too attached.  She could be whoever they needed once they told her who that was for them at the moment.

“You want to answer questions?  Ok – where did you grow up and how many kids are in your family?” He asked as if these were questions that might stump her.

“Ah, the basics?  I’m mostly from Santa Fe though we moved around a lot thanks to my dad’s job.  And I’m the baby – I have 2 older siblings.  What else would you like to know?

He sat back in his chair, stroking his chin as if he were a film noir detective. She was pretty sure she knew what was coming next.  Some guys couldn’t help but ask about sex, either directly or indirectly, when given carte blanch with being the asker.  He seemed to be just about as hungry as she was, though not for food.  He started to ask his next question when the waiter came over with their salads.  She smiled behind her napkin at the crystal clear frustration in his eyes at this interruption. He only held it in for a few bites of the salad before he asked, “How old were you the first time you had sex?”

She put her fork down slowly and gave him a slow, appraising look.  He had the decency to break out into a beaded sweat on his brow while he returned her gaze, not dropping eye contact.  It was so clear what he wanted the answer to be, and giving him what he wanted would also secure her at least 2 more dates, likely many more.  She took a deep breath and then served up his heart’s desire in one sentence, “I haven’t yet.  I’m a virgin.”

The sweat on his brow seemed to double, and his eyes were incredibly bright suddenly. “Virgin, huh?  That’s cool.  I respect that.”

She could barely contain her contempt a that one.  “Respect?”


* All 30-minute musings are fiction.  Any resemblance to people or events is strictly coincidental. *

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