I was recently thinking fondly about Annie, a past lover. I met Annie many years ago at a convention where English was not readily spoken. Several of my colleagues and I were out on the town very late, and as we returned to the hotel, walking past the front desk, I noticed this very attractive woman behind the counter. She was smiling at us as we passed.
I stopped in my tracks, arrested by her beauty. Brunette with short hair, roundish face, dark eyes, a beauty spot on her lower cheek, and sumptuous figure. In my less than perfect foreign language I began, aided by 7 or 8 drinks in my belly, the flirtation. My colleagues bid me good night and, with a chuckle, good luck.
Each time I ventured with a new verbal advance, she smiled sweetly, parried and shook her head. After 2 hours, even to my muddled brain, I was getting nowhere. Beyond being her late night entertainment of course.
But the dance continued. Never say I give up easily. Then, precisely at 7:03 am, she smiled once more, said good-bye, and up and left. It was time to go home.
It was time for me to go to bed.