Benjamin Finateri's devilishly caddish character Paul lands a date with a beautiful woman... and her daughter - but he is about to get something seriously unexpected.
I didn't wait until the divorce was final before I started dating again. After the ungrateful bitch Hannah caught me, and everything fell apart with Stephanie because she was so weak she let guilt (over learning she'd cheated with a married man) ruin her, I decided to do what was best for my needs and get right back on the horse.
The ideal way to put the whole sordid mess behind me was to have a little fun. I'd date, but I wasn't looking for a new mate, or any kind of serious relationship. I wanted three things: sex, sex, and more sex. Sure, I could've taken the low road and gone to hookers. I wouldn't have had to worry about judgment, or emotional misunderstandings, but paying for it always seemed like a last resort for desperate losers. I wasn't desperate, or a loser, just horny, and anyway, I wanted women to sleep with me out of desire, not because the price was right. Living in San Francisco would also be to my advantage. With the majority of single men being gay, I'd have a surplus of women to choose from, and I was certain I wouldn't have trouble finding plenty with the same goal as me. I mean, we all need to kick back every now and again and have a good time, am I right?
I took the route that had been successful for me in the past: clubs, bars, the gym, bookstores, and museums. I quickly learned, however, in the dozen years I'd been married, the dating world, like everything else, had moved online.
I'll admit, initially, the Internet dating scene felt a little overwhelming, but I had two choices: accept the twenty-first century or give up, so I held my breath and dove right in. And let me tell you, at the risk of sounding like an old man shouting at you to get off my lawn, young people today don't know how easy they have it. If meeting women had been this simple in my twenties, I don't think I ever would've gotten married. OK, yeah, so people lie online. If you're clever and pay attention, you learn the code. 5'8" is 5'4", athletic is a euphemism for fat, thirty means thirty-something, photos are unreliable. I could go on, but you know what I'm talking about, and listen, I can put up with some half-truths and even outright lies in exchange for the sheer volume of choices.