The Fine Art of Wooing

Those of you who know me well may have heard me say that there is an art to everything we do. I truly believe this. In fact it is like one of my personal mottoes. Notice though that the word “everything” is italicized. This is what gives this personal philosophy some extra punch. Doesn’t matter what we may be referring to, there is a specific and artistic way of going about something, and this certainly includes the wooing of a woman. With that, I shall now attempt to appease the ravenous appetites of those interested in my most recent outing with a certain Jerry Andrew Mayers.

In conjunction with my philosophy concerning the artistic nature of our every action, many of you may have also repeatedly heard me say that I consider myself to be a simple sort of girl. Extravagance has its place, but not with me. Seems to me that Andrew has done his homework, although I suspect that a certain roommate of mine may have been his accomplice in crime. Yet I cannot fault him for this. I’m sure that even the finest detective was never ridiculed for his choice in a credible source.

My hat goes off to you though Andrew for tapping into my simplicities, whether you picked up on them yourself or whether you were educated by my better half. I am still trying to figure out how you came to choose the Billy Joel. Maybe I can credit myself for that one. Maybe I'm rubbing off on you when I insist on listening to him during our occasional joyrides. Also there is something especially elegant about a bouquet of daisies. Maybe it is their compatibility with my personality or their lack of thorns. Whatever the case may be, I cannot help but smile looking at them from across the room.

I was once told by some superstitious soul that should you ever receive a fortune cookie the rule of thumb is to eat the entire cookie before reading the fortune. This is to ensure its fulfillment, and me, being the gullible type, pretends to believe such foolishness. Thus at dinner I shared this morsel with Andrew only to elicit a slight chuckle. Of course, he, being the more rational one of the two of us, disregarded my comment and read his fortune before finishing the cookie. Me, being anal retentive, had to chew and swallow before even peeking at the tiny scrap of paper. This is what my fortune read: Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you. Now normally, I would laugh to myself and not give it a second thought. But I feel that this one is particularly applicable to me. I’m still not quite sure in which direction the sun is facing, but armed with some SPF 30+, a pair of shades, and my superior sense of navigation, we’ll find it.