A/N: So, here's the 411 on my extended absence from this story. First, I spent a RIDONKULOUS amount of time working on my entry for the Dead Pan contest - no lie, like, months. I was spent, when it was done. So I took some time off of writing when it was completed, to recover. Then, round about the time I was ready to pick it back up, the dang dong Coachella pics came out, and, I'm not gonna lie, they about killed the mojo of this story for me. You guys owe mega thanks to eric'srenfield for sending me huggies and constant hints (read: demands) on Facebook to get over myself (read: stop pouting) and continue. Note to you all, I respond well to huggies! Also, if you would like to friend me on Facebook, I have put info on my FF profile on how to find me. I'm also on Twitter, but I'm convinced that Twitter has given me ADD, so I don't tweet much. LOL

My thanks as always to vikingloverelle for beta-ing this for me, even though she had to go somewhere with wi-fi to do it!

P.S. All the sad relationship stories you read in this chapter are, sadly, true. Most are mine, even more sadly, or those of my friends. Pity us!

I arrived well before our pre-arranged date time. It was a habit with me; I hated being late. I found a place to park and waited patiently until seven on the dot before leaving the car. There was no way I wanted to be the first to arrive, and it was highly likely that I wouldn't be able to get a table anyway. I nervously locked the car and began walking towards Joan's, making sure I had my messenger bag with the all-important model release inside.

All I'd had to do was yell at Sophie-Anne, 'going to get the Northman form signed!' and I was able to head out early to shop. It was really difficult to find the right outfit, because there was such a weird line I was trying to walk. Friendly, yet we're not on a date; attractive, yet not revealing. I'd finally settled on a maxi dress of the softest white cotton, with a vivid pastel peacock feather design at the hem. It had a rounded neck and an empire waist, so it was a little clingy but tasteful. I paired it with purple sequined flip flops and tied my hair into a bun, slipped on my glasses and was ready to go. It was casual and didn't look like I'd spent all afternoon shopping.

As I rounded the corner to Third, I saw him immediately or, at least, the back of his head. He was already seated at a sidewalk table with his back to me. I took a deep breath and kept mumbling, 'one night stand, one night stand' over and over to myself and walked towards the seat opposite him.

He clearly wasn't expecting me to come from behind him, and in his haste to jump up and pull out my chair, his knee banged against the table and the glasses of water he'd had waiting splashed right onto the front of my dress - my white dress.

Suddenly dripping wet, I just stood there for a moment in shock. It wasn't until Eric's eyes drew down towards my chest that I realized a) my dress and bra were now visible through my now-sheer dress and b) I was slightly chilly. Great, just great!

"Oh God, I am so sorry! Here, put this on." To my horror, Eric began to remove his denim shirt.

"NO! No, really, I'm fine," I protested.

As his fingers flew over the buttons, I realized he had a gray t-shirt on underneath. "Really, I insist. The suns setting, you'll catch a cold." He yanked the shirt from his shoulders and practically shoved it at me. Reluctantly, I slid it on, if for no other reason than to cover myself.'

'Ohh, it smells like him,' I thought, but out loud I said, "Um, look Eric, I just need you to sign this form and then Ill let you be on your way." I fumbled in my bag, found the sheet of paper and handed it to him.

As a waitress came around with a towel to wipe the spilled water from the table, Eric replied, "Sookie, please. I just splashed water all over you. Have a seat and let me make it up to you. Buy you dinner?" He flashed his award-winning smile. The waitress eyes shot between us, and she gave me a look that clearly said, "Sit, fool!"

Clutching his shirt closed awkwardly, I perched on the edge of my seat and watched as the waitress eyefucked Eric. "Look, Eric, its really sweet of you to offer, but it was just water. Its fine, really. I'll just get the form and let you get on with whatever plans you must have this evening."

"My plans were having dinner with you, maybe getting to know you a little better. But, look, lets just get this out of the way-" he scribbled his signature on the form and handed it back without even reading it "-and now we can just relax and enjoy the evening. Now, what would you like to drink?" He gestured to the still-waiting waitress.

I knew it was probably a bad idea, but I really could use a drink, so I just said, "gin and tonic." The waitress, pleased that I was cooperating with my fuckhot companion, smiled and left. She was back in a ridiculously short amount of time, again giving an oblivious Eric a heated glance while handing me my drink. My nerves were pretty shot at this point, so I bolted it down. I gestured for another G&T.

Eric continued on, clueless. "This place has great food, and I know a great place a few blocks from here that has good music if you like dancing-"

"I don't know how to dance," I interrupted, as I downed my second drink of the night.

"Oh, well, that's okay. There's a theater near here, we could catch a movie, or-"

"I don't date," I blurted. "It sounds like you're planning a date, and I need to stop you here, because I don't date."

"Umm, what? Why?"

"Because," I sighed. "It's so much drama and hassle, you get all nervous and on edge, no one ever really presents a true version of themselves when they're dating. Then, by the time you figure out you have absolutely nothing in common with this person, its too late and you end up with nothing but heartache. So I just avoid the process altogether."

"If you don't mind me asking, what led you to draw this line in the sand?"

"A string of crazy-ass ex-boyfriends, that's what."

He started laughing. "C'mon, they couldn't have been that bad. Everyone's got crazy exes. My ex-girlfriend was bat-shit!"

"Really? Try me. Whats the craziest thing she did?"

"Well, she once went off on me about a stray cat that showed up at our house. She said we already had a cat, so we didn't need another. When I protested that I had nothing to do with the stray showing up, she waited until I left the house, then put my favorite pair of jeans in our cats litter box. By the time I got home, our cat had peed all over them."

"Weird, yes. But were not even talking the same league of crazy here, Eric."

"Okay, hit me. Let me hear your best crazy ex story," he challenged.

"I once had an ex go off on me at a hockey game for failing to get him a free bobble-head doll before they were all given away and the reason he wasn't able to get his own was because he was too busy talking to another woman." Clearly, the two drinks on an empty stomach had opened up my verbal floodgates.

"Nice... very nice! Well, I moved in with a girl once, only to have her suddenly up and move out two months later. Turns out, the only reason she wanted me to move in was because she was behind in rent when she left, the landlord turned up and I had to cough up the balance or get evicted!"

"Pffft. I met this guy online once, and I started piecing together that the things he told me weren't all matching up. For example, his kid wasn't the right age for the dates of his marriage, and when I called him on it, he tried to backpedal. So, I met someone else online, who seemed really great. Well, the oddball guy found out about the new guy and I called him on his bullshit, which he clumsily attempted to explain away. He gave me this big spiel about how we had clicked and to NOT go out with the new guy, but to give him another chance, all cards on the table. So, stupid me, I did. And, sure enough, he turned out to be a pathological liar, and the pretty great guy was so miffed over me calling off our date he never returned any of my calls."

"Ouch. That does suck."

"Oh, that's not even the worst one!"

"It gets WORSE?"

"Uh, YEAH! I dated a guy for three years, right? English guy. It turned out that one of my best friends, who is also English, was getting married right around the time of his moms 60th birthday. So, we decide to make the trip over. I'm going to be a bridesmaid, yada yada yada. So, we get there, and we're staying at his mom's house while she's on an extended hospital stay. We go to see her, she's great, a really super woman. We come back to her house, and my ex decides he wants to have Chinese for dinner. Now, he was from a really tiny town - typical English High Street and all that. So we walk to the High Street and I see a Chinese place, and not thinking a town that size can have more than one Chinese restaurant, I start to go in. He threw a conniption fit in the middle of the street, screaming about how that wasn't the one he wanted, it was too expensive, blah blah blah. I tried and tried to get him to calm down, but he went all drama queen on me and flounced off back to his house. I didn't really have any choice but to follow him. So we got back to the house and he started flinging my stuff into my suitcase, and he threw me out."

"He THREW you OUT?"

"Yup. In a foreign country. At night. Completely clueless as to where I was, since he'd handled all the travel arrangements once we were over there."

"Wow - what a bastard! What did you do?"

"I managed to get back to the train station and caught a train into London. We'd budgeted the trip really carefully, so I had to call my parents and have them wire me hotel funds until it was time for my friend's wedding. Let me tell you, it was REALLY fun flying back to the States stuck next to him on the plane!"

"I can't even imagine."

"So can you see why I don't date?"

"Well, I can see how you'd be cautious. What if we-" Eric was interrupted by a bony hand snaking into his hair. His head shot around to see who was caressing his carefully coiffed mane - crazed fan, perhaps? Whereas I, with the front row seat to the Crazy Show, merely sat back to watch.

"Eric, darrrrrrrlliiiinngggg," Pamela Ravenscroft dragged out. He looked horrified; she looked territorial. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" In woman-speak, this translates to: who is this bitch, and why is she with you? In what seemed like slow motion, stringy blonde hair obscured Eric's face as Pamela bent her head and kissed him. On the mouth. For longer than what would be deemed a socially acceptable friendly greeting. I think I saw a very skinny tongue dart out. Eww.

I took that as my cue. I grabbed my model release, shoved it into my bag and stood. "Well, Eric, something tells me I'll be adding this to my repertoire of stories I was telling you earlier. Thanks for signing this. Pamela, I hear they have great food here - oh, never mind." I spun on my flip flopped heel and left in a blaze of maxi dress.

It wasn't until I got home that I realized I was still wearing his denim shirt.