Most of the internet dates I went on didn't lead to anything, but there was one that I really hoped would. From the first moment of this date I was charmed. We stayed out late into the night drinking, playing darts, and getting to know each other, and our chemistry and inebriation brought us past the normal first-date boundaries and into her bed. I figured there was no way this would be our only date. But in the middle of the act, she must've felt self-conscious for a moment, because she asked me, "What do you like about me?"

It was my chance to tell her how great a night it had been. How welcome and warm she'd made me feel right off the bat, and how badly I hoped we'd hang out again soon. But I didn't. My drunken brain went somewhere else. I thought I was being funny and that she'd know I was parodying a less sensitive man than myself. So I said, "Your boobs." Silence followed. It was exactly what she didn't want to hear; she rolled over and put her face in her pillow. I didn't know if she was awake or asleep. I lay beside her for what felt like a wordless eternity before asking if she wanted me to stay. She shrugged. I left. After the third or fourth unreturned phone call a few days later I began replaying the end of the evening in my head and understanding where I'd gone wrong. Over five years later, I still think back to that night and wonder how different my life might be today if I'd answered one question differently. � Paul