When I dated in college, a young man asked me if I wanted to see his hamster. The instantaneous thought I had was "weirdo with something else up his sleeve" and maybe my radar hadn't been working.
Seeing the skeptical look on my face, the guy said, "No, really, I have a hamster."
Again, I waited. I'd heard about the etching line used to lure girls to a guy's place with the hopes interesting things could take place under the covers. I still leaned toward a big fat no.
I asked, "Why do you have a hamster?"
He shrugged. "Can't have a cat in the dorm." Then he added, "I know what you're thinking..."
Damn right I was.
"The hamster is for real."
I sighed and decided to go. I could use my pretend karate if I had to. FYI: the hamster was for real.
When I wrote Temporarily Employed, my heroine, Hattie Cooks, knows hero cop Allan Wellborn. He's her best friend's brother. But we're all aware people change over time. Here's a fun dialogue run between the two:
No frisking and no arrests were--so far, in my book--a good thing. As Sarah Anne’s older brother, I found it easy to eliminate him from the stalker, murderer, and rapist categories. The something in the truck line sounded similar to approaches used in past dating experiences. For instance:
“Want to come up and look at my etchings?”
Translated: A roll in the hay.
Or the ever popular “Would you like to meet Mr. Lizard?”
Translated: Mr. Wiggly Worm.
“How about coming to my place for a drink?”
Translated: To ply me with multiple drinks and the requisite roll in the hay.
I hadn’t fallen for those then and wasn’t going to be a sucker now.
He stuck his hands on his hip and said, “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not a stalker, murderer, or rapist."
Apparently, he could read minds.
"Just a minute." I closed the door partially to release the chain, then opened it. “Why can’t you just tell me whatever it is?”
“No. I want to show you---”
“Not a Picasso?” I asked.
“Not an iguana?”
A perplexed expression crossed his face. “A what?”
“Not your pet worm?”
“What pet worm?”