Most of my dating in the past while has been pretty weary, flat, stale, and unprofitable (Shakespeare). The worst was a woman who I later found out used internet dating as a means of feeding herself — a date hustler. I took her to that Greek place on Davie with the lineup, she was cute in a raggedy kind of way — blue dress, shy-girl hair (over the eyes), black Mary Jane shoes. The conversation was weird, she smelled weird, she ate quickly and drank two glasses of wine, and then said, as though she was reciting an especially insipid passage from the bible about who begat who, “Thank-you for the date, it was a lot of fun. I don't think it's going to work out though, I just think we're too different.” ['Only one of us is too different,' I should have thought.] She was standing up while she said this, still chewing. “Good luck and I hope you find the right girl for you.” She downed the dregs of her wine and walked out. Later, my writing partner Laura and I saw her at the same place in the same goddam clothes wolfing down food and pounding Pinot Grigio while some other mucker looked on in nonplussment [sic].

Things are looking up though. A couple weeks after the Date Hustler incident, I met a woman that seems like she could be a keeper. Little early to tell. It was a blind date set up by a good friend of mine Craig. First name Craig, last name Zlist, as Bart would say. Craig Zlist helped Laura (writing partner) and me furnish our illegal apartment hustles, put me on to that writers group, and now he's hooking me up with a girl named Paloma.