He was a perfect date. I later got drunk and hacked his phone (who uses their birth year for a password? It was 1986, by the way #teamcougar). What I found was a text to a Kristina explaining his aforementioned sex dream he’d had about her while sleeping next to me in a luxurious hotel bed.
When we’re in public and we spot a fit dude with chiseled abs, a pec-tacular chest and no shirt, it’s easy to say, “What a tool/douche/showoff/shmuck, etc.” But what if that man isn’t built like a Greek god? When a pudgy, doughy-bodied dude goes shirtless, we don’t say a word.