You: the gorgeous blonde who gave me her e-mail address at the cafe. I wrote to you the next day -- but now, a week later, you still haven't written back. What happened? I can imagine only seven possible explanations:
(1) In the intervening week, you were reunited with your long-lost boyfriend, a paramilitary commando who had been assumed dead, but in fact miraculously survived his time in an overseas prison camp, sustained only by the thought of returning to you.
(2) You suffer from a severe case of multiple personality disorder. The persona I encountered, charming though it was, represents only a fleeting aspect of your fractured psyche. The rest of you is as crazy as a freaking loon and has no recollection of ever meeting me.
(3) A new computer virus, engineered specifically to detect first-date requests, intercepted my e-mail before it could reach your inbox. You are, as we speak, compulsively checking your mail, still waiting for my message.
(4) In the days after our meeting, you experienced a divine revelation concerning your true calling in life. You have since left the professional world and all of its trappings, moved to Calcutta, and are now 'married to God.'
(5) Not having eaten a sufficient breakfast that morning, my encounter with you was in fact a chimera or hallucination. This episode constitutes an early warning sign of a psychotic illness that is sure to intensify as I grow older.
(6) Soon after our meeting, you received a notice that your driver's license needed renewal. You promptly went to the DMV, but are still standing in line, unable to check your e-mail.
(7) I am the unwitting participant in a new reality television show called Joe Idiot. This incident is only the first in a series of torments that will be inflicted upon me in the months to come, to the delight of millions.
So which is it? Because I'm not quite ready to consider the possibility that you are JUST PLAIN FUCKING RUDE. . .!!!