Wowwww, ..How did I miss so much ???…L.M.A.O.
Back in my bachelor days, whenever I’d hit a . . . uh . . . dry patch, I’d consult with my friend Gino.
Maybe “friend” is too strong a word. It’s hard to get close to a self-described “Italian Stallion” whose conversation is composed of little more than tales of his sexual prowess and the occasional sports anecdote, but Gino was a friend of a friend and he was good at breaking the ice.
Breaking the ice.
Where someone like me—introverted, diffident, haunted by the memory of being kicked off my 7th grade basketball team in Catholic school for hosting a boy-girl party—would lean against the wall in a singles bar looking at his feet, Gino would walk up to a group of unattached women and say something sensitive and thoughtful like “Hey, hey, hey!”—and all of a sudden the fun would begin.
She’s just waiting to spritz…
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