GIRL 22 ~ SOULLESS SALES GIRL

GIRL 22

 

SOULLESS SALES GIRL

 

Her photos were alluring.  She listed herself as a sales woman.  She seemed to know a lot about literature.

 

Her profile said, ""You are a gentlemen and are not ephemeral.  You’re literate.  A very smart little fox once said, ‘what is essential is invisible to the eye.’""

 

I wrote her.  She winked back, then disappeared.

 

I kept staring at that photo of hers.  Finally I wrote her a poem about how two ships crossed in the night, and how I would never know her, her, the love of my life.

 

Writing erotic, sensuous, romantic poetry is easy.  I just think about Girl 6.  I put her right in front of me in my mind, and I write.

 

It took her seconds to write me back.  Poetry is like that old malt liquor ad – works every time.  I met her in Princeton at the bar of a restaurant that is entirely too expensive for such rot-gut food.  She was beautiful and sexy and I wanted her.

 

Our conversation stalled at the first sentence.  After I’d asked her perhaps half a dozen "first date" questions, she frowned and said, "I don’t like answering personal questions on a date."

 

Rather than laugh, I acted as if I completely understood.  Then, to my own amusement and that of the waiter, I started a monologue in which I interviewed myself and spoke for her in a sarcastic falsetto voice.

 

"So, Michael," I asked myself, "how long have you been single?"

 

On and on like that it went for twenty minutes.  She wasn’t amused. 

 

Funny thing, I had a great time on that date.  I almost considered asking her out again just so I could keep myself company.