A piece of advice for men is that it's a waste of time playing the "...does she like me?..." game. No-one knows the answer - maybe she does, maybe she doesn't - so fugheddaboutit, dude.
When you're up to your plums in gums with a woman, that's when you know if she likes you. And make no assumptions, it might just be a sympathy/release/one night thing. There's no telling. Don't make wedding plans.
You, sir, will never divine what she's thinking, so don't try.
Happy Hour tonight had Mr Nights, my local co-conspirator, and your humble correspondent in the company of five hot babes. Sam was there, as was Elizabeth, plus other examples of hawt chick-flesh seemingly happy in a social milieu.
That's the frustrating element. You're a man in a social setting, reigning in the most base instincts you have and...
...I'm sorry, what did you say? I was checking out your breasts, wondering what they'd taste like...
...wow, that's so interesting. Tell me again how you met your ex-husband...
See what I mean? Every road I drive this conversation down is sexual, whereas the gathering was to commiserate Mr Nights' move to Nevada.
Las Vegas. Now that sounds like fun, doncha think?
Bottoms Up, Gamblers!
Vegas woman photo from here [link]
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