I'm not sure what to make of your eyes. The way they catch the light unsettles my soul. Your smile unwinds my spine.

I want to sing to you. I want to dance with you. I dream of whispering sweet nothings in your ear as my foot casually steps on your toes.

Your smile may turn to a snarl. It might happen just as someone takes an impromptu photo of us. To the impatient observer it may look like I'm attempting an apology, or that I just realized you're a cannibal. It really could go either way. You did start the date by explaining a partiality to bbq.

The fire in your eyes has evolved over this time that I've known you. Granted, it's not a long stretch so the sample size is certainly too low to be of any significance, but I feel like I can say that I know you well enough to fear for certain body regions of my own.

The bartender finally caught my eye. The waiter will soon be delivering salvation in the form of alcoholic social lubrication. I've been told I'm imminently more humorous and genial when the other party is drunk or otherwise not paying attention. I'm hoping for a quick payoff.

I just realized I accidentally was calculating the chance that you're drunk and how much more alcohol would be required to achieve the proper state of non-awareness. Well, I was calculating it on purpose, but I did just realize I was doing so aloud in your presence. For that, I apologize. I realize words like “slightly overweight” are not something anyone wants to hear, especially on a first date.

Oh look! The alcohol. I like to call them forget-me-shots! Why are you running away?

Sometimes I don't really get women. Maybe it's just the holiday.