The Best Sex I Never Had

About one year and one week ago, I met a girl who was nice, but odd. The day after I met her, I wrote about it:

...it was probably 2:30 in the morning. If her roommate was to be believed, they started drinking at 7 that night. We probably first met [her] around 11:00. How was she not sober yet? I told her that I should go, because I thought she "might still be feeling the effects of the alcohol." She denied this and, apparently thinking it would support her claim, took her shirt off...[She] had an interesting way of making out. She often raised both eyebrows - twice, rapidly - in Groucho Marx fashion. She winked every now and then. Things that should be done slowly to prevent us bumping heads, etc. -- like when her hair got in the way and she needed to sweep it to one side or tuck it behind her ears -- were not done slowly, but rather in swift, herky-jerky, Dontrelle Willis-esque motions.

I looked her up on thefacebook.com recently - her profile shows she's a member of the "I'm not sure what I did last night, and I enjoyed every minute of it" group, as well as the "Franzia/boxed wine is my chosen method of wastedness" club. Sometimes, the internet puts it all in perspective. It all makes sense now. She's a member of a few other red-flag groups: "I love NASCAR", "Anything to do with Jessica Simpson Obssessed", and "Actually, dirty blonds do it better".

She might "do it better" - I wouldn't know because I refused to sleep with her that night, and we never went on a date. Thank God.