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"Yes hes pretty good at it, hell squeeze my arm and say lets see if I can get some honey out of you honey. Or if I say were out of angel hair pasta hell say Why dont I just use a few of yours."
Yes, like most of the men reading this, I cringe on hearing this stuff. But dont knock it, it seems to work.
"Well," I say, "that certainly sounds like love."
"No not really, I mean I wouldnt say that hes the one."
Now Im confused. "If hes not the one , then how do you know hes not the one and what makes someone the one in the first place?"
"I dont know, but Ill know it when I see it."
I sigh and shake my head. Such blind faith. Im starting to think that I may be in over my head.
At times like these, I usually seek solace in the numbing effects of alcohol. Plus, a crowded bar will give me a chance to better test the pheromone cologne. The Amsterdam Cafe looks crowded enough. I find a place at the bar, but unfortunately most of the patrons are male. Undaunted, I ask the female bartender, Heather Big Hair Heather to her friends, if she would like to take a whiff of my pheromone cologne. I mention to her (perhaps unwisely) that it is suppose to make me irresistible. She declines saying, "Youre irresistible enough." The sarcasm meter goes off the scale.
Okay, so Im oh for two on the cologne, but I press on thinking maybe, like Tanya, Heather has some take on this whole romance game. Does she have any opinion on Valentines Day?
"Its cheesy, its just another cheesy commercial holiday."
Heather sounds pretty cynical, probably not the sort of person I should be talking to.
"Am I to assume then that you are single?" I ask.
"No I have somebody," she assures me. "Im just not that into romance."
This is interesting. It seems to me that a lot of people out there are involved in relationships that dont amount to much more than monogamous casual sex.
"What about your boyfriend? Does he share your opinion?"
Heather shrugs. "I dont know, I guess."
"I suppose that means youre not expecting flowers or anything?"
"No, I like flowers. Im definitely getting flowers."
Is it me, or are all the women in the world messing with my head?