"Oh, yeah," I said. "Let me get that out for you, 'Baby'." When I did, I twisted it up like a dishrag and dug my nails in. He tried to jump up, but the table was in the way.
"What the hell is wrong with you!" he yelled.
"Touch my t**s again and I'll rip it off," I told him. I stood up and walked out. I got a cab and went home. I got some funny looks at work that Monday, but no one said anything about it.
I went on five more dates that month and they were all disasters. On the last one, we went to a jazz concert and I was trying to listen to the music while the i***t I was with was speaking into my ear, telling me all about how great he was. I looked across the room and I saw a huge guy with a big mop of dark curly hair sitting over there. There was some blonde bimbo with fake t**s and a
