She slumped down again and put her head on my shoulder like a girl who’s read too many Nicholas Sparks novels

I met a “free spirit” the other day that was more wound up than the coil in helicoidal. We met at a promotional dinner. She spoke slowly and in long philosophical sentences and she had the most intense eye contact. She wore Reeboks. Throughout dinner she analyzed me and ended her flattering portrayal with a mild put-down. I told her that she had me all wrong, especially in the flatteries. She responded by telling me that she would show me the real San Fransisco one day and I didn’t know if we were still having a conversation or if she was reciting the lyrics to a song. While she talked she kept bobbing towards me, rubbing shoulders and letting her hair fall over her eyes flirtatiously like “Hair-Cover-Her-Eyes-Barbie”. When I suspected that she was going to start talking about poetry, I interrupted to ask her if I could see her ***™. That woke her up from her self-possession and she sat up erect and turned beet red and told me that I was being inappropriate. She asked me what my sign was, so I lied and told her I was a Leo and she said “I knew it” and I smiled and asked her how it was so obvious. She slumped down again and put her head on my shoulder like a girl who’s read too many Nicholas Sparks novels and told me that I reminded her of the boy who broke her heart in high school.

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