Some days I tell the truth. This is one of those days.
Chris has never seen me naked. He has never even kissed me (or I him). Never.
He is too young for me (but aging rapidly,*evil laugh*). (Ok, that part was a lie. If he were a woman, he would probably not be too young, if history is any judge, but that's not the point...not the point at all).
We met once for drinks, down by the river, lower Manhattan. It was a bar full of men, with beautiful Australian waitresses with bare midriffs. Strangely, neither of us were distracted by them. Our talk was that good. I only noticed because that's what I do.
The bar served delicious little tunafish pizzas for happy hour. Not bad.
A few days later, he trusted me on the phone with his girlfriend, B., who sounded really cute. Lucky Chris. She sounded fabulous and complimented me in extravagant ways, despite having never met me. That sort of flattery always does wonders, though I'm pretty sure she was drunk. The call was placed late in the evening, from some place called 'Nancy Whiskey.' I was flattered to be thought of in the midst of such a lovely couple's fun evening on the town. Those are the kind of things that kind of 'do it' for me.
