I was no longer in the mood to deal with him.I debated calling it a night until a cute guy took a seat three barstools down. After finishing his beer...he looked over to me, the only company sitting at the bar. “Mondays suck.” “Sounds like someone has a case of the Mondays,” I returned. I had remembered that line from some stupid movie by ex-boyfriend watched all the time.“I love that movie!” He shouted. The ice was broken that easily. He moved himself to the stool next to mine. He was white. ?Seriously, Licia, you’re the only three-dimensional woman I know.? Honks told me last week when we were having lunch. ?All these other women, once you get the possibility of sex out of the way, just seem shallow—they’re into shopping, none of them read much, and they waste their time at nightclubs?it’s really sad.?I worried that Honks might not have enough to do socially in Chicago, but his cousin Henrietta, Hatcher’s daughter works there as a hair stylist. She began setting up appointments. More

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