After having lured Mike from his teaching post in New Hampshire to my hotel room at Nine Zero and a seafood dinner I stood arguing with him in a remarkably narrow Boston bar.

“She’s totally checking me out man.”

“Sure.”

“I’m telling you. It’s everytime you look away,” I said. “That was a sustained, three second glare.”

This went on for some time until the five or so men surrounding her began staring too. At one point they all laughed (inbetween buying her drinks and shoving their cards under her nose). She was frankly the most popular woman in the bar: a cross between Andie Macdowell (and roughly the same age) and Elaine from Seinfeld (you’re getting big hair, right?).

With my ears burning (and my loins – I need to see a doctor about that), and not feeling quite brave enough to break the business man barrier surrounding her, I made my exit, touching her arm on my way, and wished her a good night. Soon after she followed me outside, revealed her height (pretty tall) and put her arm in mine.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

A little bit, I thought, and followed her to the next bar.

More alcohol flowed and slowly so too did the unsettling admissions. She wants babies, soon, and – so it transpired – with me. The former swimwear model, it turns out, had spent the evening defending me from the discouragement of the men surrounding her who said that I was a geek. And, in the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever received, she told them that while I was a geek I was “adorable”.

She then asked me to lunch for the following day, which is now. So better run. Those babies won’t make themselves.

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