Since she said she was looking for the boy-next-door type, I’m guessing she meant clean-cut. If so, I was right up her alley. My years in the military led me down a narrow and regimented path. I didn’t drink, much; I certainly didn’t do drugs. I guess compared to her, I might’ve looked boring. Aside from two tattoos—a tiger that took up most of my right shoulder and upper arm, and the Hawaiian word Kākou on my left bicep that I got about a year after I joined the military—there wasn’t anything edgy about me. But I wouldn’t know if I was her type until I took the first step and messaged her.
I’ll admit I hesitated. We seemed like opposites. Based on looks alone, we were so different. Her, a black woman with an unorthodox style, and me a Polynesian-and-white guy with an athletic build. I certainly wasn’t as fashion-forward and daring with my attire as she seemed to be. All I needed was a cool opening line to get her attention. Show her that the clean-cut “unassuming” boy next door can lay pipe just the way she liked it if given a chance.
I knew what I was bringing to the table. She’d never forget me.
I clicked on the box next to her username and composed my message before hitting send. Nothing heavy, just an icebreaker—an icebreaker that was certain to make an impression.
Sgt4U: Knock knock.
About a two minutes passed before she replied.
CraftyBabexXx: Hmm, I’ll play along. Who’s there?
CraftyBabexXx: Orange who?
Sgt4U: Orange you glad someone had the balls to be original on this thing?
There was a long pause. My lame joke was funny in my head. Maybe it didn’t translate well in a text format. Hey, I should have at least gotten points for being unique.