Zoology

I was right. The Gentle Giant is just that. A seven-foot, awkward bundle of doofishness. He's huge! I mean he is gigantic. His hands were the size of...of...I have no idea. They were so big I have no frame of reference. He is huge. It's too bad he's such a tremendous dork (albeit a very kind and sweet one), or I might be tempted to satisfy my curiosity at which other parts of him are super-sized. I mean, I can't help but be curious, can I? Aren't you?

Not every girl gets the chance to see something of this magnitude in her lifetime. I feel that since I have the opportunity I shouldn't pass it up. This is serious research.

However, Gentle Giant, true to his nature, seems to be the type who falls in love easily. I want no part of that. He kept saying how sweet I was. Oh, lordy. And two hours after the end of the date, he's already emailed with his "real" email address to tell me he'd love to go out again and thank me for the great day. See? He's a good egg, poor schmuck. I'd feel bad misleading him just to get a glimpse of his goods.

Hmm. I guess I'm bad at this whole taking-advantage thing. Maybe I am (shudder) sweet, after all.

Nah. It's just that, giants or not, the nice guys are so very bad in bed.