He wanted that woman.

She wanted him.

It wasn’t just her body that intrigued him. Or the anchor tattoos, like Popeye’s, on her forearms.It was her whole demeanor. She would always touch his forearm when they chatted and once, as their conversation was a bit longer than usual, she absent-mindedly (or maybe not) stroked it slowly.

So after the meeting one day, he asked her to go with him for coffee.

“Coffee? No. Anything but that. You see, I am a barista.

So he countered with the only thing he could think of, frozen yogurt.

After they got their yogurt, he was tongue-tied. So he just blurted out, “I think you are the most attractive woman I have come across since…”

“Since when?”

“My wife left me for her massage therapist.”

“And that was when, last week?”

“Longer than that. Two.”

“Weeks?”

“No. Years.”

“Oh.”

“So do you want to go to the movies? Or something like that?” She directly asked.

“How about you come to my place. And watch The Maltese Falcon and Casablanca?

“Sure. If I watch another live action comic book movie, I’ll puke. Just promise you will have parmesan cheese to shake on the popcorn. Oh, and one other thing, I will have sex on the first date, if the guy’s bathroom is clean and there’s no dirt under his fingernails.”

It’s just getting too easy.