We Could Be Pyrotechnical Together

M4W
For the blind cutie eating out at Bennigans last night:

I was the 5’8”…I mean, 6’3” acne-riddled…sorry, tanned heartthrob—with rail-thin…ahem…athletic arms and a broken…I mean, perfect smile.

Anyways, can I take you out for a night on the town? Or perhaps a relaxing meal in my parent’s basement (it doesn't really matter, right?)?

–Martin (656) 435-76–

Call me if you read this…oh…shit.

w4m: Hi! We shared a commuter train on the way back from Saturday’s football game. I was over on the left side of the car, wearing a black halter top and blue jeans. You sat directly across from me and had your entire body painted green and were trading head punches with a couple of friends for most of the way. Over by the Hillsboro stop, we shared a smile and I almost (!) got up the nerve to ask for your phone number. But then your buddy with the chain-mail vest suddenly puked on that frail old guy, and you got pretty busy.

Call me next time you’re free!! You seem like a catch (get it!?!)!

Cheryl 503-909-420–

You were the tall woman at the Lakeview Trader Joes at around 8 last night who swallowed whole a Cadbury egg (jesus!). I was the man shopping for plantains who sprung wood.
As soon as you noticed my erection, you looked away, ashamed (of what? of being two passionate people with needs? Needs that need each other?).

I hope you're looking now, because, Baby, I think we could be pyrotechnical together.

Neil (212) 845-61–

Let's kindle some loving over my fire-wood.