Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Service: * * * *
Food: * * * *
Ambience: * * * *
Babe Count: * * * * *
M and I are having a date. I've ordered lamb shank, and she's ordered the butternut pasta shell thingy. I've had that several times at Franco's, and I simply have to recommend it as a restaurant dish to kill for. My lamb shank is great. Her pasta is great.
She's keen to hear about my date with L earlier, so I give her some juicy details.
M knows that I'm dating other women, and, for now, isn't too worried about it. She knows that J and I are shagging, and that's also fine for her. "As long as she knows about me," she says.
"I've told J that I'm shagging other women, and she's cool with it," I say.
"Roy," she says, "I have this horrible feeling that you're going to break my heart."
"I think I'm going to like you more than I should, and I'm going to fall in love with you, and it's all going to end in tears."
"Well, let's take things slowly," I say.
"Roy," she says, "have you considered that this multiple dating and polyamory and shagging several girls might actually be your way of not engaging, of keeping distance, of protecting yourself?"
"Yeah," I say. "I have considered that. And I think it's true. I think I'm very reluctant to fall in love again. Last time I fell in love was with Jacqui. And I got that totally wrong, as it turns out. And I'm still not over her. A year later."
"Tell me what went wrong between you and Jacqui," she says.
So I tell her my version of events, and as I hear myself talk, it's like I can't believe that Jacqui broke up with me. And I so wish she hadn't.
So right now, multiple light affections with heavy petting and other benefits is what's working for me.
The waiter arrives. "Would you like to see the dessert menu?"
M and I give each other a lascivious look. "No thanks," I say.
And we pay the bill, and M and I go to my skanky li'l red sports car parked out in a dark and deserted Tyrone Avenue, and we steam the windows up and do dessert in the car.