“Have you got balls?” She asked: the sweetie pie partner I took out on business dinner date at the ritzy mama put. “Yeah, I got some here” indicating my crotch. “I never go anywhere without them.” I was not so on high paraga, or too ghetto to not comprehend the purport of her question- we were supposed to be discussing a dicey deal that requires nerves of steel to pull off. But I couldn’t pass the chance at flippancy.
I moved to prove to her that I had two nice balls tucked away inside my pants: I pushed my chair back stood up (while thinking “WTF” am I doing? I unbuckled my belt, and I had started to unzip my fly, watching and listening for her shocked response, but that response never came. She got a smirk on her face as if she was daring me to show what balls I got. I expected her eyes to have, instead open wide like Betty Boops, and her mouth to make a big round “O” as expression of shock as expected of decent ladies to masculine crassness, but she never did. I stopped in mid action, staring forlornly at her awaiting a reprimand to my dare. But she said, with a twinkle of interest in her eyes “go on. Go right on, show me what you got”.
Game on! I thought to myself, I will have my chance too. For now, I just got to roll with the punch. I am thinking, devising a game and strategizing on how to get her to eat out of my hand the next round. This is definitely not a game of solitaire, this is a game of dare, and two can play this game. I just hope she don’t quit while got one on me. Hey, am being macho or stupid? I am going to lose this deal and the game if she playing me for a fool. But I think she’s not. She likely wanna get laid too.
Dating is much a game as ping-pong, or basketball, or volleyball or softball are body contact ballgames. Only players win in this game.
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