He walks in and I can already tell what type of man he is. He stops, looks at the chandelier that hangs above him. He looks like he just knocked back the whiskey sour I could bet a pretty dime he’s about to order. He taps the bar and says something.

    I take a good, hard look at this man. Honestly, he’s what most people would consider “good looking”: High cheekbones, taut eyebrows, eyes that saw right through every in here, refusing to look back.

    He scans the room and fixes his collar. His eyes stop and at first, I thought the he was seeing the woman behind me. He smiles slightly and begin to walk t me, his eyes never straying. He stops.

    “Can I buy you a drink?”