Profiles

He blinked as sweat began to pour down his forehead. He took another sip of his drink, it was neat. The timer would begin in about thirty seconds. What was he doing? This was his chance at love, but every ounce of optimism left when he noticed Darla was playing the game. The next girl was six feet away, her bra was showing, and she wasn't a bad piece of eye-candy.

She sat.

She identified herself as Bianca, her tag said number 36. She was wearing rectangular shaped glasses. The glasses were missing a nose piece, that bothered him. He couldn't look away. She began immediately talking about herself. Confidence was definitely her strongest attribute. Her brownish red hair cascaded down in tight curls resting just below her chin. Her jawline was perfectly poised and reflected in perfect harmony the slight smile she had on her face as she made consonants that sounded sliced off a block. 

Bianca was not his type.

#11, Cami. As she also took the initiative to talk he noticed she had a dimple at the top of her nose that kind of twitched when she said one of a few things that made her giggle. He giggled too and was very complementary. He liked her thighs and the laced mid-calf boots she wore. He'd seen her at another singles night.

He left a dozen messages for 'hooker shoes' she never called him.

He blinked again and began laughing right in the middle of the 24 year old blonde's story about how she's been dating too long. She was 24! He offended her. 

#28, he didn't even catch her name, but she had incredible tits and his laugh was more like a howl from the coyote in the old Droopy cartoons when she talked about her ex-boyfriend ripping her off right beneath her nose. She too was offended.

By the time Rose introduced herself he was two to many rum in cokes in to realize they made a connection. He'd have to find her number in his jacket pocket the next day. She found him charming and although he'd never remember telling her he was in Wall-Street she knew deep down he was a bank teller at the Washington Mutual on the corner of 36th and Main a two block walk from her apartment. He rambled on about his favorite Scotch, comfiest loafer shoes, and how many rounds of Mortal Kombat it took for him to figure out all the finishing moves. She didn't care. She just piped in a few quips about how nerdy she was too and how it took her an hour to get off the Candy Crush in order to "doll" up for the evening.

They were the perfect profile for each other.