Tools

I had a late lunch with two pretty young women this afternoon.  The conversation was quite funny.  They talked of the website they wish to create called "Tools" about the guys they've met.  Being a non-tool, I was quite entertained.  There were many stories.  I'll tell one now, and later, perhaps, I can tell another.

One of the girls was irked by a fellow she had recently gone out with.  Her mother wanted to know if she was serious about the boy.

"My mother asked me something she's never asked me before.  'Have you slept with him yet?'  I was like. . . God. . . no!  Then she said, 'Well, he just wants to see if there is chemistry with you.  He wants to know that first.'  I couldn't believe it.  This was my mother!"

"So this guy and I were out one afternoon walking around the lake downtown, and it was like really very hot and I was sweating like crazy.  Suddenly he stops and pulls me up close and kisses me.  And I didn't feel anything.  There was no chemistry.  So I kind of pulled back, but he grabs me and pulls me close again, and he has put his hand under my dress and is grabbing my ass, and I'm pulling away but he's really going for it.  Finally, I told him, 'Listen, I don't feel it like that,' and he said, 'Really?  Your body is saying something else.'  He'd grabbed my ass and it was really hot and I was sweating and he thought that he was making me wet, and I said, 'Uh. . . noooo.'"

"He kept texting me forever.  He'd say, 'Why do you keep denying that you like me?  I know you like me.  Your body responded to me.  You were so wet.'  I couldn't believe him."

We were all snorting and people at two of the nearby tables were obviously now part of the conversation as they were laughing, too.

"I kept ignoring him until he was finally getting pissy and he put something on my Facebook that was ugly, so I had to block him."

"You should go out with him and wear a Depends," I said.  "When he goes up your dress and feels that, tell him you are really embarrassed, but you have terrible incontinence.  Tell him it gets worse when you get excited and keep going, 'Whoops. . . sorry. . . oh!. . . this doesn't bother you does it?"

The girls liked this part and were adding details and laughing loudly. I could tell that the people at the other tables were wanting to add details of their own.

"Then tell him you love him," I said. "Tell him that you never want to be without him.  Text him all the time and say, 'Where are you?  What are you doing?  I love you so much.  Don't ever leave me, ever, or I will kill you.'  That should excite him."

I really want her to do this.  I will buy the box of depends.

"You should wear Depends on all your dates," I said.  It will make things easier.  As soon as you decide you don't like a guy, just pull up your dress enough for him to see them.  That should take care of things."

Most of life's problems are easily solved, I think.  We just don't look in the right places for answers.

Just then, our food arrived.  It has been awhile since I sat with women in a cafe on a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon.  I was remembering that it is fun.  There is little that is more fun than a cafe with food and drink and conversation.  I'd been missing this.

The food arrived, drinks were freshened, and the next Tool story began.