I spent all day cleaning the house and preparing an amazing meal, even consulting my dad the chef for an easy-yet-impressive menu. By the time my date arrived, the house was immaculate, the meal was well underway, and I was lotioned, perfumed, shaved, made up and just about as ravishing as I could get. After all, this was date three, and I was looking forward to seeing if the chemistry my date and I had in the coffee shop translated into chemistry in the bedroom.
My date arrived and seemed a little nervous to be at my place, but we were soon engaged in conversation and I put him to work in the kitchen to keep him busy. He did some magic tricks for me that were totally endearing - even Raincoast Kitty seemed to enjoy him. And then, as we were sitting on the couch, a few hours after dinner, I noticed him peering anxiously at the clock on the microwave.
"Are you watching the clock?" I asked him incredulously.
"Well, yeah - I should get home," he said. "I have to get up early tomorrow."
I was a bit in shock. All of our dates had been initiated by him, he had absolutely indicated that he was interested - and now here I was offering, well, me, on a platter, and he had to get up early tomorrow?!