So last night, we met for dinner. Thai food, which is “home” for Kathy.

“Well, you definitely act just like a man,” I said. “It amazes me. Going out with you is just like going out with a man. A good man, though.”

“How’s that, Elsie?” she said with her Kathy-grin.

I clenched my fists in a body builder pose and mimicked her voice. “You’re comin’ with me, Elsie! I’m takin’ you out!” I barked. “We’re goin’ somewhere!”

She roared.

“And you called me today,” I said. “Like setting up a date. Are we still going out, you asked. Well yeah, I said. And you said, Okay! I’ll call you back and tell you where we going.”

We both laughed.

“But it’s not like you’re a lousy man. You’re a good one. Thoughtful. Unless you think of somewhere you want to go, you said. See? I can have a vote. If there is somewhere I want to go, that’s fine, but otherwise you’re going to take care of this. And I am going to let you! Because from my perspective, why bother? You’ve got this hard-on so I may as well relax and let you do your thing.”

She roars. “I have a hard-on?” she asked.

“Well, yeah. And we get in here (the restaurant) and what do you do? “Let me help you order, Elsie. Let me do this for you. And I’m sitting over here, thinking what the fuck? So you order. And I let you. Go ahead, Kathy. Figure it out. Fix me up. And I just sit here…”

She laughs her ass off.

“And believe me, if I were sitting here with anyone but you, I would order my own food, you know. I know how to order food, Kathy…”

She banged the table with her hand and laid her head down, choking on her laughter, so I moved in for the kill.

“And what about outside? We meet in the parking lot and what did you say?”

“What?” she asked, poised to laugh at herself.

I raised my voice to a Kathy-squeal. “Oh, Elsie!” I said screechingly. “Look at your toes! You painted your toes red,” I said.

She snorted.

“Just like a man! Don’t you know that’s what men do? It is! When they’re on a date, they always find something about you. The ones that get laid do, anyway. They find something to like about your appearance and they say something. Oh honey! Your hair looks so good. Is that a new broach?”

At this point, she’s got her head laying on the table, heaving with laughter. Her whole body is convulsing. Mine too.

“They try to notice something about your appearance. They act just like you. So anyway, Kathy, yes. As far as I am concerned, you’re a man…”

After dinner, she orders dessert and proceeds to wolf it down.

Being girlish, I defer as if thinking, “Dessert? Who me? No, thanks. Everyone knows it goes straight to your hips…”

The End