Go Walk in Traffic. Seriously.

Gwen and I had been on a few dates. She was a sweet girl, but the chemistry just wasn't there. I arranged a "let's just be friends" date at a local coffee house.

From the moment we sat down, I realized that it would be difficult to accomplish the task I had set for myself.

She said, "So I have a great idea: let's go to Vermont for the weekend!"

Ulp. I'd rather go on a date with Weird Al Yankovic to a clowning convention in Afghanistan.

I leaned in. "Gwen, you're really terrific, but I just don't think that things are going to work out."

She cocked an eyebrow, confused.

I clarified, "Between us."

Her mouth opened. "What? You're breaking up with me?"

Uh-oh, spaghettios! Damage control! I said, "Well, it's not technically a breakup, since we were never really boyfriend and girlfriend–"

"You're breaking up? With ME? I... uh... well..." her hand went to her forehead and she wobbled to her feet, "I just... okay... whoa..."

I stood up and stepped toward her. "Gwen? Are you okay?"

Far louder than necessary, she said, "Oh, I'm better than okay!"

She ran out of the coffee house and into the street, where a black Honda stopped short, but not short enough. It bumped lightly against her, but she retained her footing and stumbled along to the other side of the street and out of my life.