Men and Women Are Different, Vol. 3782-B

What is that bizarre bit of circuitry that women seem to have that allows them to switch a guy from "someone we want to screw" to "someone we want to hang out with an drink tea"?

Last week, once again, I found myself traveling on biz, touching down in the magic city of Chicago. The third night there, I met up with a former Kenette for pizza and a couple beers. We hadn't seen each other in a while -- at least five years. Back in the day, we were both in kinda/sorta relationships, but still couldn't keep our hands off each other. Whenever we got together, we'd have a few beers, then talk would instantly turn to my mouth on her, then that talk would become reality. And I mean heated, Mick-Jagger-on-groupie style reality.

Over the days leading up to our dinner, I figgered there may be a chance for a repeat performance. But within the first few minutes of her arrival, I knew it wasn't happening. Lots of talk about sports and her new job. And the new guy she kinda/sorta likes. And how her mom just got settled into a new place in Florida. My mind's trolling the gutter; hers is in Sunshine City.

And after a while, I felt a bit embarrassed about having to hold down my hard-on with both hands. She had grown up and moved on, and I was still the booze-addled pervert, desperate for another taste.

I sent her an e-mail the next day, saying how awesome she looked and how great it was to see her and, again, how fucking awesome she looked. And she just responded with a, "great to see you, too! Man, was that pizza good" sorta response.

So I've gone from "fuck" to "friend." And I move on. I keep movin' on.