DATING: AL DENTE Chapter 1: The Guy Who Jumped Out Of My Car (go to the previous page) I gussied myself up, drove 120km into the largest city in Canada and met him with that special brand of clumsy date blindness that never fails to put the pink into my cheeks, at least for an hour. I probably should have been tipped off by the long ragged 60's tweed coat, shiny-new cowboy boots and the big black furry Russian hat. But I soldiered on because hey, I had just paid $16 to park for the evening. The first words out of my mouth were, "You're not 6'1"!", thus sparking a rage from his side, instant and defensive. We argued over his lack of height -- I winning said argument due to my own 6'0" stature which he could not dispel, especially now that I was there in person. So in meek defense of his little-man frame, he decided to move on...to me. I was wearing a long black wool coat, being February, and the mystery of my well-hidden body must have pumped him up a notch -- he swaggered over to me in those cocky urban boots with a pompous air that seemed incredibly silly, proceeded to unbutton my coat in one smooth move, and with a flourish he held it wide open with both hands and exclaimed with glee, "I can work with that!" It took me a second longer than necessary to digest his comment...was this flattery? Obscenity? Breaking the ice? In PUBLIC, no less? I decided to brush it off as "yeah, damned straight I'm sexy, and I don't give a shit about what YOU think." Yeah. It was a lot easier to go on from there because I now had the upper hand -- I looked nothing but tasty in his eyes while his balding, pimple-faced skinny ass stood beside me like a scourge of my existence. Go on to the next page.