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She Didn’t Like Her French Fries

October 29, 2007

The other night I had a date with this girl named Audrey. I knew that I would never see Audrey again after our date before I went on it. Audrey is six feet tall. On a good day, in tall shoes, and when gravity stops pressing down on me, I am five-foot-six – though my license says five-foot-seven.

Now height is not a deal breaker all the time. But for most girls it is. We both knew the height difference before the date. But I guess we both secretly hoped that we would have an instant spark where such dramatic differences in stature wouldn’t matter.

But there wasn’t a spark. Our date seemed forced. And she didn’t like her french fries. After the date, I gave her a hug and I never saw her again.

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