My father-in-law arrived in town this evening. My wife met us with all the kids at a home we're interested in, after which we went to Cafe Rio. While I was working my way through a steak salad, I caught in my peripheral vision something that I was sure wasn't really happening. So I turned my focus that way, and the entire women's volleyball team from one of the local colleges had queued up behind our table. One of them was a singular beauty among beauties, and as I watched her work her way through the line then sit and eat with her friends, my mind played through the logistics of asking her to name her price for one hour alone together: Is she LDS? Does that matter? Would she take me seriously? Could I proposition her on a note with an alias e-mail address, and how easily could the police hack out my identity if she went to them? Would I end up in the Johns section of the paper? Would I care? Would she turn and walk over to my wife and report my solicitation? Would I care? Would I show up for a rendezvous only to get thumped by her linebacker boyfriend and his buddies? Ah, too much hassle.
Tonight in the paper I read about a website (previously unknown to me) that had been refused naming rights on the NY Jets' stadium: AshleyMadison.com, whose tagline is, "Life is short. Have an affair." I wonder what my catchy nom de screen would be.
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