“cmon, just one date.” johnny begs, setting the bouquet on the table, following behind you as you work. he’s been asking you out for months now, and you’ve turned him down every time. he knows what the problem is. it’s his image. johnny loves women, johnnys a ladies man. but he isn’t anymore. “i haven’t even touched a woman since i met you.” he blurts out suddenly. that makes you pause. “im serious. swear on my life, you can ask sue. you’re all i think about.” he confesses. he sits on the table next to the stuff you’re tinkering with, tucking the piece of hair that fell out of the clip behind your ear, and straightening your glasses. it’s a sweet, gentle gesture.