I was having a pretty ordinary night out and was about to start making my way home when someone gently touched my arm.  I turned around to see who it was, and there he was… yum!

The handsome guy standing before me was dressed smartly in all-black.  I knew him from several online chats we had months earlier. He was kind of an alluring rascal: a sex-obsessed scallywag with an impish grin and a wry sense of humor.

But, standing there in front of me, dressed up nice, my oh my, he was a real cutie!

“You have no idea who I am,” he said.

“Oh, but I do,” I smiled, willing my eyes to sparkle, if that’s possible.

We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes and, becoming a bit more comfortable with him, I took a seat on a bar stool in front of him.

The conversation went in spurts, with some awkward silence in between, yet neither one of us made any effort to move on.  I got the sense that he was into me, and I had a little interest of my own.

He was tall, good-looking, utterly charming and even sweet – a much better impression than the seedy one he projects online – though I have no doubt that is an honest part of him too.

And even though he couldn’t keep his eyes off every pretty woman that passed by behind me, I knew that this man was the first one for which I felt a real attraction.  For some reason, it made me almost giddy.