Went out on the second date with the poly woman. I was at my wittiest, it seems, keeping her amused throughout. It was all relatively clean, though... Scarcely an innuendo. Things like the waiter turning on a lamp near our table, asking us if it was too bright, and me replying, "I don't know, is this an interrogation?"
At the end of the evening, she suggested that we get together again on Friday, and she would make supper at her place. She started talking about what to make, asked if there were anything that I avoided eating, and without skipping a beat I replied, "black pussy".
"That is so wrong," she said, hardly surprising considering our earlier conversations were about equality, the creepy date rape machismo vibe from a previous guy she dated in Toronto and the local lesbian poetry slam she attended.
"It is. And yet you're laughing."
And she was.
Kinda wish she wasn't a dead ringer for my abusive manager at work.
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