Secret Agent Stoopid

A few years ago, I introduced my friends Sascha and Derek; now, Sascha feels a need to return the favor by setting me up with her colleague. Though I know I was successful in my matchmaking and she is happy with Derek, Sascha enjoys vicarious thrills courtesy of my experience on Manhattan’s dating scene. Dense Brosnan was a candidate for the C.I.A and though he would have made Jessica Simpson seem like a Rhodes Scholar, he did have 8-pack abs and a sweet new B.M.W. This man was not really someone who I would ever consider dating seriously, though what harm could there be in having dinner? Plus, I had to do it for my friend; she was curious to discover whether all that packaging could deliver or if it was just for show.

I agreed to let D.B. take me out one Thursday evening; correction, THE most romantic Thursday evening of 2008-Valentine’s Day. Thursday is a good first date night, as many people are out and about on payday and the possibilities are limitless. If the date is amazing you could stay out all night, go to work Friday, and then recover on Saturday. If you are hoping to hear someone yell, “FIRE!!”, from the kitchen by the time appetizers arrive, you may then just call it an early evening citing your need for at least eight full hours of sleep on school nights. We arrived at Josie’s, a cute place in Murray Hill, which caters to the healthy set. All this man-child cared to discuss was his favorite person…D.B. How he attended Rutgers, though didn’t fare well academically due to his dedication to extracurricular activities, i.e. supporting women’s rights (to move into his bedroom) and Chemistry Club (discovering which liquors mix best to produce the best shots). Don’t get me wrong, I have enjoyed many late night games of Asshole, though, I didn’t major in Strategies to Acquire the Golden Beerpong Ball and Plastic Cup Trophy either. Oh my, his shirt did complement his pecs so nicely. Yes, fine, his pecs…and biceps…and ass were all tight and healthy; though every time he opened his mouth I wanted to fill it with a steamed organic Belgian potato & broccoli dumpling! He must have thought I was entirely too generous with my appetizer, though truthfully, I couldn’t stand listening to his insipid tales of debauchery from college and wrestling pseudo-presidential-attackers to the ground from the academy.

After dinner, we made our way to Snafu, which is a bar I frequented with friends during college and though I no longer spend many evenings there, I still return occasionally for happy hour. Though I passed by the bouncer without a problem, D.B. was stopped and asked for identification. I noticed a New Jersey license sitting conveniently inside a photo pocket, though D.B, of course, HAD to fish for and then, after a good two minutes, produce his MIGHTY AGENT I.D. I believe it was Shania Twain who once said, “So you’re a C.I.A. probie…That don’t impress me much…”-Oh no, that was MY LINE! D.B. and I sat on a sofa in a dark corner upstairs overlooking the bar area. He began kissing my neck and nibbling on my ear, “Damn”, I thought, “that feels amazing”. Somewhere between Dirty Martini #2 and breathtaking kiss #3, I realized D.B. lacked in conversational skills what LimpDick lacked in sexual prowess. From what Ruby and I had discussed, LimpDick was her intellectual equal, though she could no longer be the sensual instructor to his dunce of seduction. I sat here with Secret Agent Dodo, enjoying an electrifying, passionate kiss and when we stopped I wondered if Ruby and I would have to choose between sexual and intellectual satisfaction?? Oh good grief, if that is the case, then I will never settle down…such a dilemma is one that I should not have to consider…I want it all damn it!!!!!!!! Furthermore, I DESERVE IT ALL!!!! I finished my drink, savored the olives soaked in Grey Goose and asked D.B. to drive me home…it was, after all, a school night.–Frankie