“What sort of lady is she?”

I asked my friend Steve. He had suggested that he hook me up with a buddy of his, a woman he knew from the office who was, in his words, “on the prowl.”

“She’s your type,” he told me. “I know it.”

“That’s not answering my question.” I wasn’t intentionally being stubborn, but my string of recent sad dating stories had colored my view considerably. I didn’t want to strike out. Again.

“She’s a friend,” he said. “We talk over coffee. I know what she’s into. And" — he paused and eyed me carefully — “I think I know what you’re into, too.”

“What do you mean?” Now, I was half indignant and half curious.... Read More