It's a Friday afternoon––and guess what? You're so bored that you think a dog eating its paws is starting to look like a night at the opera. Maybe it's your job, maybe it's your partner, maybe it's the thought that in a trillion years or so the universe will dissipate into heat death. And this is the best we can do?
Happily, I have a plan to rescue you from all of this. We meet today after work, maybe around 6.00pm or so. It's short notice of course, but then who doesn't like surprises? Here's how it will go: we'll meet somewhere not stupidly crowded and get a drink. I'll talk with such poetic fluency you'll think that John Keats snorted some coke and decided to chat you up. You'll be nervous and fluttery at first, but that's OK: I'm warm and welcoming and perceptive, so before you know it, we'll practically be in therapy together.
A few drinks more, and we'll be positively intimate. We'll have exchanged pictures, so attraction is a given. I'll lean over to you with a view to whispering something, and we'll kiss instead, with all the hungry urgency it takes to redeem the day and everything it contains. After that? Who the hell knows. But that on its own will be so much fun it makes Disneyland look like a child prison.
So get back to me and let's agree where we want to meet. I'm professionally accomplished, gym body, publicly visible academic and entrepreneur, socially dominant––if it's good, I have it, I'm sure. I'm hoping you're intelligent, cynical, attractive, and in good physical shape.
We don't have much time to do this––but we have enough ... so let's do it.
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