A friend of mine is trying to fix me up with her brother's college roommate. I'm not sure whether her goal is for us to be friends or to date (she did not mention if he has a significant other -- she may not know -- but I'm certain that she would have mentioned it if he was gay), but I sent him an email anyway.
This friend and I have known each other since our freshman year of college and, over the years, I have developed a small but independent friendship with her brother. Both of them are very nice people, and it should be mentioned that her brother is a hot piece. (Okay, it wasn't strictly necessary to mention that, but he is.) Based on the brother's hotness, I suspected that the target of this fix-up would be attractive as well since the comely tend to be pack animals. I researched the target on a prominent social networking website where he has posted photos of himself (yes, that is slightly stalkerish, but since he posted the photos himself and erected no barriers to prevent the entire world from viewing them, I assume that he would not mind), and...damn. That is one tasty piece of hard Irish toffee. I was practically fanning myself. I'm not sure if Irish Toffee is everyone's flavor, but he is most definitely mine. It doesn't hurt that he bears a resemblance to my friend's brother who, as I already mentioned, is good-lookin'.
I doubt that Irish Toffee is going to respond to my email. He has a demanding job in politics and he has lived in this city for five or so years, so I doubt he is really in the market for a new friend. But I'm sitting here thinking to myself, "I am dieting myself into an even more hotter body! I am lots of fun and a sparkling conversationalist! Please email me and perhaps also touch my butt!" Hear me, Irish Toffee. Hear me.
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