(Mis)adventures in Dating a Clown

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px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-weight: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-size: 14px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; ">  I could go on, but you can connect the polka dots. No sparks or sparkling bon mots.  By the time the salads arrived, he was waxing rapturously about his love affair with the dulcimer. I decided that a double scotch with a xanax chaser would get me through yet another episode of As the World Spurns.  At the end of the evening, I evaded a kiss on the cheek, declined his invitation to go back to his apartment to listen to his original recordings of Edith Piaf and peeled out of the parking lot. (Word to the Wise:  always, always take your own car).

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