Damn, you’re sexy.

For a work convention.

What do you mean uh-oh?

Not everyone in Vegas is doing coke and getting blowjobs from hookers.

It was great talking to you…I don’t want the night to end.

Do you want to come up to the room and order some room service?

No? Then how about breakfast tomorrow morning?

Why do you keep asking me that?  I told you, I’m divorced.

I’m coming to LA in a few weeks for work. How will I wait that long to see you?

I made dinner reservations at the St. Regis.

You look gorgeous. Are those your F.M. heels?

How can you be from New York and not know what that means?

I have to tell you something, and you’re not going to be happy.

She knows I’m unhappy.

She’s happy being a stay-at-home mom. Nothing’s wrong with that.

Very funny. I do my own laundry and take my own suits to the cleaners.

No, you can’t get this one. Or any one.

Southern men pay when they take a woman on a date.

Yes, I would actually call this a date.

We haven’t had sex in over a year. Even when we did, there was no passion.

I don’t need a condom, I had a vasectomy.

Okay, where’s the closest drug store?

She’s much younger than me, she’s your age.

Your stomach is so flat.

No, I wouldn’t say it’s the most important thing.

Great tits are important too.

I am a southern gentleman. I just feel comfortable enough to joke around with you.

Why would I worry about using the credit card? Yeah, right…it’s for my secret life.

Even if she knew, she wouldn’t care.

Stop grilling me. I took it off when I saw you, OK?

I told her I don’t want to be together anymore.

I basically told her I don’t want to be together anymore.

I’m working on it.

Meeting you made me realize how long affection has been missing from my life.

I am aware of how cliché that sounds. That doesn’t mean it’s not true.

When I sat on the edge of the bed before I left—and we just held onto each other.

That look we shared. It’s all I could think about the whole plane ride home.

You actually believe something I said, for a change?

I’d have to give her a ton of money if I got a divorce.

Do you have any idea what it costs to send two kids to private school?

No, I don’t think I’m a pathological liar. How am I a sociopath?

But we have such unbelievable chemistry.

Do you think we could still meet up now and then?


ALLISON FUTTERMAN is a native New Yorker, living in Charlotte, NC. She's written human interest, food, travel, and writing craft pieces. She also writes essays and flash fiction. Her articles have appeared in Charlotte, The Writer and Today's Charlotte Woman magazines, as well as the Charlotte Observer. She can be reached at [email protected]

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