The phone conversation I just had with the cute guy I met at the bar on Friday night: Him: Hi. Me: Hi. H: How are you? M: Good. Really good. H: Well, you looked really good on Friday. M: (nervous laughter) Thanks. H: Yeah, so what do you do? M: Oh, I’m a writer. H: Cool. Me too. Where do you work? M: Down in Venice. H: Really?! I'll be in the area tomorrow for work. M: What do you do? H: I just said I was a writer. M: I meant, what do you write? H: Oh, cool. So, how about I come by and take you to lunch? M: (pause) Um. Sure. Why not? H: What’s the address? M: 1234 Lincoln. Across the street from the Vons. H: Oh perfect. Is there valet? M: At my work? H: Yeah. M: No.

H: Well, shit. M: There is, uh, a parking lot. H: Oh, cool. I’ll come by around 1. M: Great. Just call my cell. H: So, what do you like for lunch? M: I like pretty much anything except Italian. H: My grandfather’s Italian. M: Ha ha. Sorry. H: How about something hot? M: Ooh. Indian is my favorite. H: So are you into lingerie? M: Well, um, sure. (semi-awkward laughter) Isn’t every girl? H: Awesome! So, do you wear crazy panties at work? M: Wait, what? H: Like lacy shit. Can you wear those panties with the crotch cut out? M: Wha- what the hell are you talking about? H: Hey! Look, I told you I’m not looking for a relationship. M: When? What? H: I just thought you might like a little afternoon delight. M: …

H: Afternoon delight. It’s, like, uh – M: Really? Are you really talking sex right now? H: And lunch. You just said you were into kinky shit. M: No I didn’t H: Yes you did. M: No I didn’t. H: What? So are you scared? M: I don’t even know you, dude. H: Put down your purse! M: What? H: Put down your purse! M: I’m – I’m driving. What? H: Trust me. You want to. I can do things with my— M: Uh, sorry, but I don’t think you understand— H: Baby— (Loud yelling/commotion in background) Oh shit, I have to go. M: What is that? H: I gotta go. Lunch. 1234 Lincoln. See you then. M: Wait – wait! Dial tone…