“I’ll get the grilled pork chops with java rice.” She paused for two seconds. “And the watermelon shake. Large.” She flashed a sheepish grin at me. “I’m famished!”
I had to chuckle and shake my head at that. Why girls had to apologize for their appetite was beyond me.
“Well I, am getting the King’s Meal. Two orders.” The waiter nodded in agreement and left.
“Damn. Thank you. Now I won’t have to feel bad about wanting that triple choco fudge pie for later.”
“No shit. That’s bad for you.”
“Talk to the hand now.”
“No, seriously. All that sugar, all those calories…”
“Oh, shut up already!” She stuck a tongue at me, making me chuckle again.
She half-laughed, and the smile stayed on her face a few seconds.
“Pick a topic.”
“What?” I was still staring at her smile.
“Pick a topic, and we’ll talk about that.”
I had played this game before, always with me initiating it. Not really a game; just an acknowledgment of how people’s conversations couldn’t be a hundred percent spontaneous all the time, like in the movies.
But her starting it caught me off-guard. Women usually hated this, and I’ve had several scathing remarks about how un-romantic and robotic it was to “plan” a conversation, and how conversations are just supposed to flow naturally, especially when two people are genuinely interested in each other. Right. ‘Only spontaneous conversation I could have would be about..
Her eyes bulged a bit in surprise. Gotcha.
“Hmm. Okay, I’m game with that.” Her eyes danced in mock-contempt. “So. Why do you guys have to have it all the time? What’s with the insatiable itch? And don’t talk to me about physiological stuff, I already know that.” She paused dramatically, leaning closer to the table, staring me down. “But what goes on in that head of yours? That one, not the other,” she clarified, pointing at my forehead and making me chuckle yet again.
“Hmm. To be honest? Basically it’s what we live for. Plain and simple. So when a guy sees a girl–any girl–she immediately gets categorized into the different folders in his head: want-sex-with-her-right-here-right-now; would-be-great-to-have-sex-with-her; will-maybe-consider-sex-with-her; will-do-if-the-situation-calls-for-it; not-unless-really-really-desperate.” I counted the categories with my fingers in front of her. “Just about right. Yep, five categories.”
“Any specific parameters and indicators that you use for that categorization? You know in my job, clear metrics matter.”
“Yes, of course. Each category corresponds to a temperature range in our groin area.”
We both burst out laughing.
“Okay, your turn. And no generalizations. What’s your personal take on sex?”
“Wait, no, I’m not done with you yet.”
“That sounded kinky.”
She burst out giggling. “Ooops, yeah that didn’t come out right.”
“And, anyway, you already asked me one question. My turn. Again, what’s your personal take on sex? And more importantly, would you like to have it later?”
She didn’t even blink. “We’re having a clinical discussion here, ya? On that note, I’ll answer your second question first. Yes, I’d like to have it later, but it doesn’t mean that I will have it. If we acted on everything that we felt like having or doing we’d all be in straightjackets. But that’s another discussion.” She was straight-faced, but the corners of her mouth twitched a bit, and her eyes were still dancing.
“You, woman, always say quite a mouthful.” And you kill me. You really do.
“Yeah, I do talk too much, don’t I?”
“You still have to answer my first question.”
“The answer’s incorporated in my answer to your second question.”
“So you like it, like it? Not just for later?”
“But you’re not having it.”
Her eyes just kept on dancing.
My fist hurt, and it was only then I realized I’d been clenching it under the table since I didn’t know when.
A couple more pages for my novel. Writing parts of the material in no particular order has been quite helpful, so far. Really enjoying this!