What you eat in private, you wear in public. (Unknown)

He waited for me to comment or laugh or give him some sort of reaction. I read.

“Yeah I went to Philly once. I’m from not too far from there. I was born in Indiana but my dad is from Boston.” I couldn’t help but cringe at his Boston pronunciation of Boston: Boyston. “I grew up in Boston.”

“No kidding.” He missed the sarcasm dripping from my words.

“Yeah! It’s a great spot. Love it. Red Sox! But ya know, I really like California. You’re an east coast girl; you know what I’m sayin’? It’s just nice out here.”

I looked up from my book and gave him an oh-my-God-do-you-ever-shut-up look of death. That was when I realized that he was actually quite attractive. He had taken off his shirt somewhere between his string of words and he looked magnificent. I’m feeling flustered even now just getting a mental image of that tanned skin and those arms, they weren’t straight like the arms of any other man I had seen before (albeit I was accustomed to the sunken scrawny arms of drug addicts) but it was just strange to me how curvy they were. It was like his arms consisted of several variable sized balls laced together under his skin. His abs, my God, they were even better: they were abs! There on his stomach were these perfect six perfect little bumps, maybe even more. I must have started drooling because I’m almost drooling now as I recall it.

Suddenly his decently proportioned face was perfect, chiseled by the Gods. Suddenly I was laughing and I didn’t know why. I couldn’t remember what he said. In a flash my cool, along with my annoyance, had evaporated. I let him rattle on a few moments longer while I composed myself again. I got control of myself and consciously made an effort to return to the dominate position in the situation where I had naturally gravitated before when I didn’t care.