Came back, smiling and joking like good mates.
I guess I should change the title of the thread: “Well done with your irritating, unconventional, yet effective flirting”.
The conversation usually does take place post-coitally, which would explain the phenomenon.
Is it really possible to think of nothing other than post-coitally?
I see a book published in his honour:
“Men Who Annoy Women and the Women Who Love Them”
For the first half hour post-coitus, I can usually just about remember to breath. Anything more than that, no chance.
Umm…while I’m sleeping?
"Sorry Ladies, I’m now taken by the most beautiful princess in the world. She is so hot, that she is even hotter than I am. I think that is good in a relationship. The girl should be the prettier one, or else she’ll feel insecure. I’m usually the prettier one. It’s been a long and hard search, but this prince is now taken. "
Awwww! booo! no fair!
snorts
So jjimm any update?
How about a D&D tournament full of Ph.D. candidates in History of Science? I think we at least have a tie.
Bloody hell.
Really. I am still holding out for she was hungry.
I was going to try to construct some kind of case, but there’s no arguing with this. I will not-so-reluctantly relinquish the title.
But surely, at least, you don’t have to work with them day after day for the rest of your life?
pan
Actually, I have one word:
Why?
I was dating their visiting professor, otherwise sometimes known by my grad school classmates as the Sexy Soviet Scientist. He was a fan of experiencing the natives in their habitat. (Actually, I think he secretly got a kick out of the whole thing. It’s difficult to conceive of a bigger geek than a cross between a physicist and a historian.)
Actually, my mental image of you has always been of a drunk, a witty, cranky, erudite drunk, in a bathrobe at an outdoor cafe in the crowded marketplace of some loud, dusty, sunny city. With a laptop instead of a newspaper. Possibly with a small pet monkey.
Default may be boobs (okay, it is boobs), but we’re not that one-dimensional. Sometimes we’ll be thinking about ass, and even occassionally legs (especially long shapely ones).
I, however, am not a standard model. I’m usually thinking about my own great aphrodesiac, one of which I never have enough…money. Boobs comes a close second though.
Hey, jjim, could you walk over to the girl and ask her something for me?
Yeah, just go over there and ask her, simply, “The fuck?”
Thanks.
I vote for this too. Because unless he realized what a dork he looked like and came up to her with an abject apology involving phrasing something to the effect of “I realize I’ve been making a fool out of myself, but you’re just so attractive and seem like such an interesting, intelligent woman that I couldn’t see any way that you’d take notice of a guy like me unless I undertook extreme measures. I just hope that I haven’t ruined your impression of me too much, that I can drop the pretence, and we can talk like regular human beings,” then I really can’t understand why she wouldn’t have told him to bug off.
Maybe after that he could have taken off her shoes and licked her feet. Jesus Christ, that isn’t exactly the way to get someone interested in you, lie prostrate before them.
It’s the only thing I could see as any way in which acting like a total dork and apparently pissing the woman off would eventually lead to her asking him out to lunch and them returning all smiles.
Oddly enough, this is one of my sincere aspirations.
Here I was thinking of Collounsbury as a character in a Graham Greene novel, and it turns out he is more suited for one of Evelyn Waugh’s.
Eh, who is Evelyn Waugh?