Boyfriend #13
Clark Barnyard, age twenty-three
He cooked her dinner at his place and was goofy and tender, nuzzling her neck and making puppy noises. They started to kiss on the couch, and it was nice for approximately thirty seconds until his hands went under her shirt and started hunting for her bra hooks. That was so not Mr. Darcy.
“Whoa there, cowboy,” she said, but he was “in the groove” and had to be told to stop three or four times before he finally pried his fingers off her breasts and stood up, rubbing his eyes.
“What’s the problem, honey?” he asked, his voice stumbling on that last word.
She said he was moving too fast, and he said, then what in the hell had they been building up to over the past six months?
Jane sized up the situation to her own satisfaction: “You are no gentleman.”
And Clark summed up in his own cliché way: “Hasta la vista, baby.”