Manolo Goes On A Date (aka Original Date or Die)

(Author's Note: Unlike some people at the Hose, Manolo has a real life so he was never seriously emotionally wounded when he was unceremoniously dumped from The Hose...At the same time, Manolo never left. He comes back to check upon The Hose every 4-6 months to see how this gang of misfits is holding up...For example, I have noticed that xTian and Evil have taken my original date concept and run with it. Kudos to them...In fact, I hope they never go through some of my worst moments and refuse to pay medical bills...In their honor, I tell the following tale of woe...)
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My name is Manolo and I have a disease. I am too picky when it comes to women…I seem to be looking for perfection in a world where imperfections are what makes us unique. These imperfections (real or made-up) are used by me as nothing but as a shield not to get close to somebody. Every time I met a new woman, I would ask myself if she was girlfriend/wifey material…If she was not, I would use these imperfections as reasons to abandon the possibilities of what may have been and focus more on short-term satisfaction of physiological needs…Don’t get me wrong, guilt-free no-strings-attached sex is great but like every man before me, I have a hunger for something more…I have arrived at that point in life where one longs to be one with somebody for more than a couple of hours (who am I kidding? I meant minutes…but best 4 minutes of your life…wink!)…

Therefore, I am trying to be a little less picky…a bit more open minded. I am trying hard about overlooking imperfections and giving everyone a chance…

Two weekends ago, I went out to paint the town (color didn’t really matter) with some friends...We are at this trendy lounge when this young woman walks by and catches my eye…what was not to like…tall (5’9’’), slim, red hair, blue eyes, smooth porcelain-like skin…

We seemed to really hit it off. In fact, we spent close to 5 hours together (last 2-3 hours walking down the beach). At the end of the night, we exchanged phone numbers and we went our separate ways, but not before agreeing to meeting once again.

As I was driving home, I kept going back to two things that were holding me back….One of them was her accent. Don’t get me wrong, I like accents. I think they are sexy, especially in the throes of passion. In fact, I am such a believer in accents that I went out and got one of my own. Nevertheless, her Russian accent meant that I found myself at times asking her what she had just said. The other thing was that she has a small mole around her lip…I then told myself if Cindy Crawford has it, why not her? I noticed I was falling into my old patterns so I decided then and there to give her a chance…

I spoke to her a couple of times on the phone and after finding out that she loves the beach, we agreed to go to the beach for our first date. I pick her up and as we are driving to our destination, she starts talking about Halloween and how she needs to buy a costume…I don’t know why she is looking for a costume since the outfit she has already makes her look like a Russian sailor (white short shorts, blue and white striped shirt, hat, sunglasses, pig tails). I think she looks very sexy but afraid of how the comment may be construed, I keep it to myself. Taking a cue to be spontaneous, we drive to a Halloween store I passed by on the way to her house to try on some costumes…Some of them were too hot to handle on a first date but I did not care…if she did not like seeing me in a Hooters outfit, perhaps she shouldn’t have looked…

Anyway, we finally arrive at the beach where I proceed to impress her by breaking out the blanket, a bottle of champagne and a full spread of cheeses and fruits…We sit there talking watching the waves crashing upon another…we start feeding each other and at one point, I drop an apple into the chocolate. I pull the apple out but my finger is drenched in chocolate…she laughs, jumps towards me and cleans my finger dry…I didn’t need another hint…I put a drop of chocolate on her cheek and I clean it…she then puts some chocolate on the tip of my nose and she cleans it…I put some chocolate on her lips….

All of a sudden, we are rolling on the blanket squishing the occasional strawberry or grape as we jockey for an ideal kissing position…From time to time, I put some chocolate on her neck or shoulders or thighs and kiss it away…I put some on her stomach and then….

I see it…I had felt something but I thought it may have been the shorts or the shirt…No, it’s not what you think…you see, my Russian sailor has an outie…I have only seen outies in the belies of malnourished third world children so imagine my surprise…

You would think that if you ever ran into one, you could just gnaw on it…maybe even treat it as a kind of a third nipple…

I guess I am not a better man after all...Back to the drawing board...