You are smokin' hot and I don't really think you understand to what degree.  You’re even gorgeous without a mustache, although we talked at length about the fact that you can grow one, and a good one at that.  You keep touching me, but not once have I given you the stiff arm or tried to back away.  I really like you.  More than I've liked anyone, sexy or not, for a long time (say, six to eight weeks).  That is saying something. 

Our mis-mastery of the grill and dins turned out surprisingly well; your mastery of my bra clasp and the physics of the sofa were even better.  In Bruges is a helluva good flick just as it is… but, add in 45 minutes of sweaty hot half-nakedness and then restart the movie halfway through?  Now that's getting all the stars I could possibly give it.  As a matter of fact, I think I'm still seeing some.

You are smart, well-read and well-traveled, and sweet… you make me say dumb stuff and act all girly.  For this I hate you, but with time (and more of whatever it was you were doing with your left hand) I can learn to forgive.  Now, pray tell, when do two people agree that they like each other, sexy time is good, and the chance of mustache is high, so let’s date?  I haven't met anyone I would 'do' in such a long time, I don't know what to 'do' with myself.  You have beautiful hands and nice feet, which is one thing… but holy hell, I actually noticed that?  Aside from your great smile and arms and butt and other man parts... 

I had to tell you l liked you.  Just had to.  Stupid me.  You're never going to call me again, are you?  I have been moved to the back of the queue – behind all the hussies that winked at you on match dot com, and behind all your eharmony matches and onion personals freaks.  Fine.  Be that way.  But for someone who wants to take it slow, you sure have fast hands.  And, for someone who hasn't dated for a while, well... it must be like riding a bicycle.  I am equal parts irritated and impressed.

Love, Gert

PS:  Sorry, again, about the e-mail I sent when you went home to let your dog out and I had to go to bed by myself.  You should have seen the one I didn’t send when I saw you were online and ignoring me. That was so 8th grade.