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Net.Date by Sal Marino Excerpt 1/4/2022 4:28:49 AM
Chapter 10 Tidbits
Europa It was a warm summer night when I met Gabby for a drink. She looked reminiscent of her attractive pictures but somehow my first in-person impressions were that of disappointment. She was wearing a sleeveless, low-cut blouse which clearly flaunted her superfluous appendages. Not being a major fan of gigantic hooters, I remember thinking “they’re just going to get in the way.” But that wasn’t what turned me off about Gabby.
True to her European heritage her personal style reflected some of the things that usually gross me out in women, especially those women who may be considered as a potential mate. Peeking out from the lateral extremities of her large sweater puppies and bracketed by excess upper arm fat, were two not so small tufts of deep brown hair seemingly straining for daylight. I immediately knew this date wouldn’t last very long. I wondered how I could incorporate a conversation of shaved arm pits with my next prospective date.
To further burn an image of disgust in my eyes, Gabby decided to pull her hair back in a ponytail as we sat and chatted. Sometimes it’s difficult to un-see that which is akin to viewing a horror film when you’re 10 years old. The imagery stays with you the rest of your life. You see, I’ve never been a fan of women who resemble small gorillas or Woolly Mammoths and unfortunately for marsupial lovers, I prefer my women very well groomed. In fact, it is my opinion that there are only two places where there should be hair on a woman’s body: her head and her eyebrows. Viva Brazil!
I normally can find humor in what others may construe as negative, so when my mind’s eye envisioned Gabby standing before me in the buff, ungroomed and very much the modern European Cave Woman, I couldn’t help chuckle at the follow up thoughts of her being the perfect candidate for a hypothetical game show, “What’s Under the Loin Cloth?” I can hear the voice-over proclaiming in the usual Game Show Announcer affectation at the unveiling of the grand prize, “Why, it’s a Jungle, Bob” …
Never being one to avoid an opportunity for a good joke and knowing that I was never going to see Gabby again, I couldn’t resist what my mind was screaming at me. As Gabby raised her arms pulling her hair back, I suggested, “you may want to put some panties on that.” She seemed confused and maybe even questioned her own understanding of the English language. She didn’t get the joke and I didn’t bother explaining. I left that night thinking that if we indeed would have stayed friends, a perfect stocking stuffer for Christmas would have been a Lady Gillette.
