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Hotbodypeebed unabridged . . . part the third.

When I tell this story, I usually leave out a part.  I tend to paint my date with the crazy-blotto-brush throughout my whole description.  That's what the people want.  But, if you want the whole truth, there was a sentimental moment . . . I'm not saying that she SHOULDN'T be painted with the crazy-blotto-brush.  She gets that brush.  There is no question.  But, for a second, she should also be accented with the sweet-brush.  About half-way through dinner, she stopped in mid-delirious-sentence, looked me in the eye and sincerely asked me to tell her about myself.  I made some glib deflector joke (as I'm wont to do) and waited for her to start talking about herself again . . . but she didn't.  She continued to look into my eyes.  She was waiting for me to ACTUALLY reveal something about myself.  I was genuinely touched.  I didn't really know what to say.  I'm used to sharing my opinion.  But, just talking about my life with no irony or attempt at humor simply because a girl want to know me better? Unheard of.  So, I kissed her in the parking-lot after dinner.  (For the record, that's a standard move of mine if I like a girl.  I think it's a good first kiss moment.  There is a pause in the dinner conversation when you're walking back to the car, so you don't have to wait for your opening.  But, unlike the END of the date, the girl doesn't see a kiss coming -- less pressure.  Also, if you kiss a girl in the middle of the date, you can almost certainly make-out with her at the end of the date, but since the ice is broken, there is again less pressure.)  

In the car, I asked her what she wanted to do next, she said that it wasn't her job to decide.  So, I took her to my apartment.  

Onward!