Spring is here at last, and with it, the first rush of solar-induced testosterone in men.  Under the influence of said rush, men tend to ask Ruth and other girls out on dates.  Ruth sits up afterwards sometimes and thinks—and the men probably wish she wouldn’t.  The next few posts will center around some of these musings, from a girl’s perspective, that will be aimed towards both my male and female readers.  Because, guys, let’s face it–how often do you get the chance to pick a girl’s brain on this subject?  And, gals, who doesn’t want a postable forum for discussing this topic?

So, first, a bit of weird-random poetry, courtesy of being awake too long after a date…


Before the date, I grabbed a buffer and a clear-coat lacquer for a hasty manicure.

Over dinner, his sad and touched-up self-disclosures over antipasti brought the thought: is this a man—I–cure?

During the bask ing rays of male attention before the silver-screen glow comes the man: a cure

who offers a shiny bit of polished compliments to cover chips on a broken, grief-discolored heart.

And post-date come the decision-making moments: oh, the manic you’re in.