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Go on a date!
Well, Belle:
You spurned me once, but I don't care. I'm still in this devil-of-a-meatmarket, and so are you, I noticed. Doesn't make any sense to me either. I know, you're the humble and softly ironic sort who depreciates her own intelligence by disavowing what her own friends say about her by suggesting that you yourself really are not bright; and me, I'm really just a pompous dolt. Which explains why neither of us has really gotten anywhere on this site. Right? Wrong.
I'm not trying to skate on your pond just for sex; I got the message, actually, in your profile: your ice is a little thin, and you don't want to be trampled on. And if you are, the guy's going to fall into the freezing cold water with you. Then comes the mammalian diving reflex, and it's all history. The old, "As two spent swimmers do drown together and choke their art."
If we ever do actually go out together some evening, you know, after we've traded emails and a couple of secrets and stuff like that, let's go to some restaurant in the Meat District; it'd be fitting, funny, fun, and altogether cute.
Egbert
# 96