There are those who call you Tim, you say. Well. Tim. Adorable as you are, I only believed approximately fifty percent of what you said. That said, it doesn't matter to me one little bit because you were so much fun. I'm not certain where you stashed it but I did notice that you surreptitiously slipped off your wedding ring at some point between sitting down next to Andrea and chatting her up. That doesn't really matter either. Even if you do have an understanding with your significant other of four years. Anything that happened, as far as I'm concerned, could be filed under appropriate social bantering behavior between adults consuming a drink or two. The Cosmopolitans were lovely. And, if possible, the Persephone was even lovelier! If you ask me, the only thing better than a charming, attractive man who shows up and insists on buying me a drink is a charming, attractive man who insists on buying drinks and then proceeds to give me a hand and shoulder massage that reduces me to a helpless puddle of mush. Please! Tim! Come back! A man with magical hands is always welcome.