"what can I say, I'm good"

The night went off without a hitch…….she was as snug as a bug in a persian rug atop my lap in Mrs. P's new pre-certified BMW complete with halogen lights to light the precarious New Year's Eve road to yet another congregation of close aquaintences…My freshly purchased Playboy shirt, a campy attempt to set myself apart from the ubiquitos guidoesque gear soon to greet me, um excuse me sir, did Gadzooks just have a closeout sale?

But everybody knows me here, I'm comfortable, her presence justifies the years and years of turning down so many opportunities with all the wrong girls. Their reactions only solidify the thought that she is definitely the girl for me, not necessarily the one, but the one for right now. "Damn, is that Jobe's date? How the hell did he pull that one off." In a vague reply of a confident politician, "What can I say, I'm good." They didn't understand then, though, as they don't understand now. And why should one expect them to understand the fear that had always resonated throughout every decision, every step of my life. Fear that was soon to metamorphasize into a madness that would envelop the next four years of our promising lives together. "Five, four, three, two, one…………..Happy New Year…" A passionate kiss on the lips, two youths lost in the promise of discovering one another on such a momentous evening, naïve of the grand prize that would be presented in a mere two hours to one unlucky contestant.