3 for the Price of 1
I used to think my lucky number was 11: my birthday’s on the 11th, I was born 7 lbs 11 oz, and it’s like winning first place, twice. But apparently my lucky number’s 3. My latest adventures have come in groups of threes: 3 girls on a cruise, losing 3 lbs, and meeting 3 new guys in a week. Lucky? Well, maybe 3’s my cursed number. The cruise was a bust with 1 “friend” ending up being “dead to me,” my favorite 3 lbs came back, and all 3 of my Princes failed to Charm.
Prince Number 1 was originally not under consideration – he was just a starter for my wounded self-esteem - but his persistent (and dare I say charming) emails finally won him my attention.
But I met Prince Number 2 before my interest peaked on Number 1. And ladies, Number 2 was a Charmer…and he knew it, and he acknowledged it, which made him ever so much more charming… I quickly fell under his spell and under his bed sheets. Yet clung to my panties, for I knew if those came off, so would my head. In a liquor-induced daze I swatted him off despite his persistent whining. I’m not a quickie girl, and he’s a quickie guy, so we quickly made a mess of things but parted ways. I left him to his 
daily pot and he left me with Prince Number 3.
My sexy Spaniard. Relationship material all the way: calls me, takes me out, kind to my friends, patient with my schedule, compliments me! What could be wrong with Mr. 3? Number 3 is very very cute, actually hot…and there’s chemistry…our second date at the beach dancing in the Venice drum circle is romantic…so I’m excited when he brushes my hair back, gazes into my eyes (with his sexy Spanish lashes), and brings his soft mouth to mine…and quickly juts his tiny tongue in and out of my mouth like a lizard. Oh god, this couldn’t be worse. But I end the date, thinking, “maybe next time will be better?” or “at least he’s not high and whining at me.” So again we go out and come back to my place. And again, he’s sweet, romantic, hot. And as he leans in to kiss me, I think, oh no, he’s missed my mouth – but he missed it on purpose and is lapping up my eyeball like a dog! A feeling of horror screams across my body as his saliva streams down my cheek, but the horror somehow turns to humor and as I laugh, he thankfully readjusts…and moves south. With my top completely on, he begins burrowing in my chest hunting for my nipples like a warthog hunts for truffles, grunting and sweating all the way. I can’t take it anymore by the time he’s dry grinding like a teenager who’s just discovered his hormones, so I say goodnight and send him on his excited way.
Thankful for Number 1, I drop him an email, to which he promptly responds. Weird, I think, how aggressively he writes and flirts with me, but never quite asks me out. We finally set something up since I have to be in his part of town one day, and I’m excited to see him. Imagine my surprise when he never returns my call. 3 weeks go by, and I get the strangest email from him, breaking up with me, even though we never went out. 3 to 2 to 1 to none.
So the lessons in this: don’t get your hopes up just because a guy pursues you, he still has to officially ask you out; stay away from hot pot heads; and if the kissing is bad the first time, don’t get your panties in a bunch – keep ‘em on and move on.
And as for the Number 3, I’ll leave it to the witches, for it is a cursed number.
