Dating a Dragon, Do It If You Can

He was a formidable creature, straight out of Teutonic mythology, and I fell in love the instant my eyes met his. His wings were unnoticed at first, as I was concentrating on the Immediacy and complexity of his reptilian body, a whiz. His brownish-gold scales and claws turned from purple to green, as he walked down the hill toward me, those imposing claws, were rarely Ever found. Puffs of smoke around his closed mouth, alerted me to his ability to incinerate me at a moment’s notice, still I stood my ground. Being a She-Dragon, in a Mammoth’s cave of He-Dragons, is great, because we are so rare, we get our pick of men, to a T. I had chosen him from the internet, hoping he would be at least half as big as he looked in the photos. Guess what? He was at least half again as big as I had initially hoped he would be. He came upon me and said, “So you are the one who wants the babies.” I felt strangely rebuked; maybe I shouldn’t have put that in my ad. His eyes were blue, crisp, clear, and he smiled as if it was a joke, which it truly was. He laughed, in a kind, gentle, I-like-you-way, which made me awfully glad. “Let’s go get a coffee, and you can tell me what else you are hoping for. I’d like to know all your hopes and dreams,” he said, salty and sappy. My heart was aflutter now. I had never had a big beautiful He-Dragon kid me like this, and I liked it. It made me so seriously happy. As we headed down the hill together, people began to scream and shriek in fright. We had forgotten to invisible-ate ourselves, feeling it was okay. His eyes caught mine, and instantly, we tele-pathed to each other, the same identical idea, which is a huge clue, that we were twin soles, who met in May. “Let’s go to Dino Castle instead,” My big, sweet man suggested. “No screaming there; they are used to us,” so we turned, and headed toward the mountains of lime. We flew to Dino Castle where my best friend, and his best friend were waiting. They had already consummated their love, and were laughing at us for taking so much time. “We haven’t gotten to know each other yet,” I said indignantly to my girlfriend, who has clearly gone over the deep end over My Man’s best man. “We want the weekend to decide, “ My man told them. “If it’s no, then there will be no regrets, and if it’s yes, we’ll get married and hire a brass band. It actually took five weekends to get used to each other’s different kind of ways, but we stayed married for forty-two years, and ninety-three days Which is much better than what happened to our rush-to-consummate friends who broke up on the second weekend, and felt bitter ‘til the end of their days. Moral of this story: Take your time. Do not rush.