During my time in Houston, I was involved in a singles organization at a local church - one of those “there-is-no-one-to-date-so-let-us-grow-old-together” type groups.  Sort of a maverick of the group, I was the youngest at 22 and, as one person put it, wear my disbelief so openly.  Not that I was a non-Christian; rather I thought being a Christian does not conflict with being a Clinton supporter. 

Thus I was rather surprised that during a conversation in a party concerning fish tanks, a perky blond I spoke with a few times before joined in and was asking to see mine.

‘Err…okay’ I sort of muttered.  It wasn’t that I was antisocial, but inviting people to my bachelor pad inevitably involved a day of hard work of rearranging furniture and erase some of the “eccentricities” of my little apartment.  

‘Next Tuesday night?’  She was not giving me a chance to fudge.

‘Sure…Why don’t we make it a dinner thing? You like Chinese?’  I was a bit relieved as this would give me the weekend to clean up.  The dinner part I could cover; my cooking was good enough to fool native Texans.

‘Dinner sounds good, I’ll eat anything.’ She shrugged.