Philly Date Part 2 or How to Make a Girl Think She's Fat

Drinks after dinner were a rousing success. Everything was turning out well and a date that started with so many nerves had turned into advantage: Mikey. It was nearing 2 o'clock in the morning when the tattoo girl and I left the bar and, without playing any games, she said it was too late for me to go home. In my mind, I accepted the invitation back to her apartment with the nonchalance of Dylan McKay accepting a cigarette. Of course, in reality, I probably had that crazed look in my eyes that a dog gets when he spots the dog park up ahead.

We got in and threw on some TV so as not to be too obvious, but before Jon Stewart had reached his first guest, we were hurrying upstairs to her room. Fantastic! I felt like I was a teenager in an Axe commercial! Everything was going good until about 20 minutes in when I hear the sound of the night table drawer opening. Damnitt. She reached back and smiled.

Now, in this situation, about 90 percent of the men out there, and probably 100 percent of the men she's dated, strip naked like a 7 year-old at a pool party. I, much to my chagrin, am wired differently. Call me old-fashioned - or more appropriately the product of 72 years of Catholic school - but I don't do that type of stuff on a first date. It's never been my style. I shook my head and uttered a "Nahhh" and nothing else. The look I got back was priceless - yet kind of familiar. I've been in this spot before with girls and I must say it is quite funny. I kind of (read: whole-heartedly), enjoy watching the axis of power shift from the woman, who's never before heard the word 'no" and holds the power of sex over men like an Iranian hostage, to little old me in a matter of a minute. Really, if I could make a YouTube montage of these moments I would and tag it "shock-and-awe." In reality, this shouldn't be that surprising. I'm just holding off on a first date. Girls do it all the time. But for a guy to do this? Let's say it always leads to the girl's brain short-circuiting.

We continuing on for a few more minutes or so before she only half-jokingly asked "What, am I too fat for you?" I smiled and reassured my 125 pound date that I was indeed very into her, it just wasn't my thing. This didn't matter though. It was like telling her 2 + 2 = chicken. The best thing about this situation wasn't the reaction, though. It was that this guaranteed a follow-up date for me. In fact this guaranteed a month of dates, a sluttier dress the next time we go out, an eventual cat-suit and hand-cuffs somewhere along the way and at least a 90-minute cardio session the minute I left the following morning. In fact I bet she ate four leaves of lettuce all week. Weather she truly likes me or not is secondary in her mind. I am now a conquest and I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.

Nothing makes a girl go crazy like a guy turning down sex. Trust me.


Warning: Guys, do not attempt to do the preceding in an attempt at gaining the upper hand with a woman without practicing first. I'm serious. You'll pull a groin muscle or something. And when you say no, you got to believe it like the way Obama believes he's a Christian. I kid! I kid! I love that guy.