Somewhere between the third and thirteenth drink something changed. She set her glass on the bar in front of her, turned sideways, looked me in the eye and said “David Duchovny has the perfect ass” Was this supposed to be a question, some kind of a scientific statement, maybe a dream, a wish, or even a kind of test. There was no way I could be sure and none of the answers I was working on were going to be safe, so I sat there waiting and smiled at her. That's when she got up and left...just as I thought things were going so well. Apparently I was never in the running, like usual.
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