Dinner dates are not always what they seem
This is an email I sent to a friend about a date I went on when I was 21 and spending the summer in Boca Raton, Florida:
Although this summer has been absolutely awesome, there are a few downs with the ups. Take last night. It is always something in South Florida.
I get a date with this incredibly hot Peruvian girl. She not just everyday hot, she's melt-the-elastic-in-your-underwear hot. I go to pick her up, and not only does she have her own condo on the beach, but she drives a Lexus. And won't tell me what she does for a living. Hmmm...
After some ridiculously provocative flirtation on the drive there, we end up at this place called Sforza, in West Palm Beach. It is a restaurant during the day and then turns into a dance club type thing at night. I know the manager and owner real well, so they totally set me up: the best table in the house, a bottle of "J" to start, and a bottle of Gaya Super Tuscan for dinner, five course meal, etc, etc. All through the meal this girl is totally into me. She's laughing at my jokes, constantly putting her hand on my leg and arm, giving me those quick, sly, "Come hither" smiles that girls give when they want you to know that they want you. As the meal progresses and we drink more, she gets more and more flirtatious.
We have a few after dinner drinks, and wait for the dance floor to fill. I may be stupid, but I know that patience with women is a virtue. I figure I just have to continue to be cool, play my cards right, and this should become a legendary night.
The last patrons finally clear the tables on the dance floor, the lights are lowered, the music starts pumping, and she starts giving me the "I'm gonna ravage you later tonight" eyes. I'm busting a woody just looking into her eyes. She leans over to me, puts her hand on my inner thigh, about a half inch below my package, and says, "I have to tell you something" (imagine her voice as a really thick, but sexy and feminine, South American accent). I am imagining all order of naughty things about to be whispered in my ear.
I lean over, put my hand on her thigh, and she says, "You know, I really like you, but....I love girls."
What? WHAT? I was stunned. What the fuck do you say to that? I was completely fucking speechless. There was like a 15 second pause in the conversation. I had no idea what to say. At first, her comment doesn't even register. Then, I think, if she's a lesbian, why is she on a date with me? Then, I think, WAIT, maybe she's into threesomes. Not having much experience in the 2 on 1 arena, and not having any idea what to say, I look at her and go, "Hey, what do you know...so do I."
She gives me a look that can only be described as "abject pity."
Well the night actually turned out great. Not because she was wanted a three-some; yeah right, like this is Penthouse Letters or something. I quickly realized that she was serious, and that I had just been taken for a free dinner. So I paid the bill, and headed straight to the bar. She headed straight for the dance floor and the arms of some other hot girl.
Four Sapphire and tonics later, I saw two friends of mine. They were with some really hot girls, so of course I told them my little story, and the girls felt bad for me. God bless Florence Nightingale syndrome. I ended up hanging out with them the rest of the night, and getting two of their numbers. I guess roses can grow out of shit.
Posted by at 12:23 AM