Mr. Sex and the Underpants

Rushing to park in the rain, I quickly slide into the next available spot, jumped out of my car and neglected pulling the park break. Damn I was late. I hate being late, and I was currently working on fifteen minutes, so I didn't want to waste another minute by properly securing my car.

Unnecessary details.

My heels clicked on the asphalt as I sprinted across the street and up the restaurant's sidewalk. I realized I didn't want my date to see me running like a crazy person, I abruptly stopped and tried to smooth my hair out and catch my breath.

Little did I really know what smooth meant, I thought it was just something I did with my hair.

Inside the entry Mr. Sex sat waiting. Impeccably perched as if sitting was too much of an inconvenience. He slowly stood up and gracefully smiled as if he hadn't noticed my tardiness.

He was cool, calm, and collected. Smooth. Very smooth. His jet-black hair and olive skin gave him an exotic look. He was Persian. Mr. Sex had the eyes of Slyvester Stallone, relaxed with thick lashes over chocolate brown ovals. I was starting to feel self conscious, his designer jeans and Affliction plaid button-up shirt paired with his trench and scarf made me feel severely under dressed.

He was groomed to a "T"-nothing out of place. The shaved arms, the smooth manicured nails, the bleached teeth, the clean smell of fresh Cologne, and the cool relaxed tone of his voice.

Smooth. Very smooth.

While spooning my parsley-infested soup to my lips, I became paranoid that I had something in my teeth. I wanted to reach up and quickly scratch at my cuspids, but Mr. Sex would see. Surely he would understand the need of removing a foreign green object? Hmm...probably not.

I was nervous. Then I asked myself WHY?

I'm human. This clearly was a strictly superficial date, and I am far from perfect. So I stopped pretending to be and had a little fun with Mr. Sex.

Raising my voice, I asked "Are you into one-night stands", and I smiled coyly, confident my teeth were parsley free.

His face light up as if this was the true question he'd been waiting for. He quickly replied, "It depends on the opportunity. If you offered to come back to my condo now, I wouldn't say no." And he smiled coyly.

Then I said firmly, "Well I'm not. I would never do that." (The Shut Down)

His smile quickly faded and he tried to back pedal. Fast. Mr. Sex said, " You are a beautiful woman, I would have made an exception this once."

I thought to myself....sure, this once. Sure.

When you ask a direct and unexpected question, the first answer is generally the honest one....the second answer is always a lie. I was positive he was used to women swooning over him and listening to his every word. I wasn't one of them. I refused to be fooled and manipulated. I had a narcissist on my hands, and through dealing with my ex husband I could see through all of his false compliments.

Mr. Sex and his charm wasn't working and he was starting to get frustrated. He said normally he wouldn't order dessert, because of his diet, but he was feeling the need to splurge. (out of being rejected)

He strolled over to the pastry counter and bent over to examine the wares closely. His tight jeans revealed another level of Mr. Sex, a midnight black, silk "man thong" peeked out.

My eyes widen.

I quickly ordered a slice of the chocolate cake. To go.