It was a Saturday night, and I had been bed ridden with the Ebola virus for the past two weeks. I was finally feeling good enough to enjoy an early dinner and a glass of wine with a friend at a classy restaurant, complete with unusually attractive piano player at the center of the bar who should probably call me. I digress. Here's where you come in. You entered the place with a pretty woman who was probably my mother's age, which made sense since you could have easily been my father's. Feeling generous as I was seated at the now full bar and you and your lady friend were not, I offered to make way so you could order your beverages. My mistake (or was it??). It became clear to me that she was not your wife as you had previously led me to believe, (when she leaned over, asking for my help and explained that you had just met tonight) when you touched my thigh where my skirt ended and told me - in less eloquent terms - you liked the way I look. After I removed your hand and loudly let your date know that your heart was straying, you then began studying my fingers. My shy disposition (for I was certainly not trying to blatantly ignore you!) must have been your aphrodisiac as you had no intention of leaving me to enjoy the remainder of my evening. Still fixated on my fingers, you called them beautiful and perceptively noted that they were small. Attempting to keep this conversation as PG as possible as I knew you were on the brink of a downward spiral and did not wish to anger your lady, I did my best to move on from the topic; but you would have none of that! You grabbed my hand and opened my eyes with a single sentence: "Small fingers make a penis look big." How did I already not know this?? So much wasted time! Please do not misinterpret my silence and subsequent bout of laughter for anything other than curiosity! Obviously I couldn't wait to prove you right! Instead my gentleman friend (whom you had no way of knowing was just a friend, I might add; such poise!) quietly asked you to leave me alone and you finally acquiesced. But I have not stopped thinking about you. So, shall we hold hands?
Sincerely,
The Girl With Small Fingers
