The fourth date is really the turning point. First date, second date, you’re getting into the groove, learning what she likes, hitting the night spots. The third date, if you get to the third date, is more fun, looser, more relaxed. Might even get lucky. Fourth date’s my wall.

See, the fourth date, not long after the third date, is a leisurely thing, a pre-planned picnic, a museum; it’s a weekend thing. It’s a daytime thing.

You can hide the paleness under bar lights, you can excuse sharp kisses with passion. In bed you can distract her from your acrotism with mood music of a bass-driven nature. Gone in the morning? Commitment issues.

Bursting into flames on the fourth date is a romantic faux pas.

Don’t say your heart bleeds for me. You’ll just make me hungry.

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