Friday, February 14, 2014


I have scheduled for tomorrow a second date with a girl I met through my usual internet dating sight, a girl I shall reference by the placeholder code name Hotel Sierra (N.A.T.O. phonetic alphabet code for her initials, the means by which I shall refer to internet dating girls until they rate the time & energy of a proper code name). Our 'phone calls are delightful & our conversation is lively, but I'm not terribly excited about the second date due to a discovery made during the first date: she is a deplorable kisser. I recall another instance in which I complained about a different paramour's kisses were awkward & unpleasant. The Watergirl counseled cutting that girl more slack; the lass might well simply have been nervous, the Belle of Beantown protested, & if given the chance might prove herself better at locking lips. It is with this sagacity foremost in mind that I have assented to the second date with Hotel Sierra. Above all else, Hotel Sierra & I share a devotion to Holy Mother Church, a prerequisite for any lasting relationship. We have many other things in common besides. I am in earnest when I call our telephonic discourse delightful. Certainly, she is far more enamored of me than I am of here, but such a disparity is natural. But those first-date kisses were the worst of my life. I kid you not, they were the worst. I felt absolutely nothing. They inspired neither affection nor even arousal. Nothing. They were the most numb kisses of my entire life. I will be charming & witty tomorrow, as "brimming with personable qualities" as Lightray, but I know that in the bit of my stomach will sit dread like grim Orion, dread of what should be a moment of unadulterated joy. No matter how much we have in common & how well the date goes in all other respects, if the kisses are the same, I just don't see how there could be a third date.

Addendum: Text message from Hotel Sierra. "I know when the times comes to crawl under the covers, sleep will escape me. All because of the giddiness/good nerves I feel when I think about being with you tomorrow." I think I'll ask for a cigarette & a blindfold, French Foreign Legion-style, when they put me before the firing squad. I hope to have the composure to quote the reputed last words of "Breaker" Morant: "Shoot straight, you bastards. Don't make a mess of it."

I have been trading messages with another girl, placeholder code name: Mike Lima, who can only be described, thus far, as unbelievable. This courtship is in a very preliminary stage, but a girl who casually references Ghostbusters, Wednesday Addams, & The Blues Brothers in a single email; is devoutly Catholic; & is a state hockey champion? Consider my interest piqued.

Lightray & Orion are comic book characters from Jack "The King" Kirby's New Gods. Have a very nerdy day.

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