My So-Called Love Life
America's Most Effective Date Killer
Let's get right to it, shall we?
Come with me to the corner table of the Treble Café, a trendy jazz club here in town. It's about eight-thirty at night, I've just had a killer fettuccine Alfredo — we are suspending all calorie counting for this evening, thank you very much — and are heading into the cheesecake portion of tonight's festivities. Soft rhythms and a smoky alto voice float out over the darkened room. Kyle, our man of the hour, has made it to crucial Date Number Three.
Which means I've just told Kyle The Secret. The fact that Kyle has made it to the secret-revealing third date shows my irrepressible hope that somewhere out there is a man who can handle The Secret.
Who will not be added to the long list of men who disappoint once learning The Secret. My nonstop, unsinkable faith that He May Be The One.
I'm holding my fork in midair, paralyzed by anticipation. I await the reaction for which I have long yearned. For which I have prayed in biblical proportions for what seems like forever.
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