Curse of the Sapiosexual

It's about the music, she thought. It was always about the music. He played the music that she loved. The Beatles, Steely Dan, Earth Wind & Fire, Radiohead, Stevie Wonder, Hall & Oates, Lyle Lovett, Leonard Cohen, Ray Charles. Always expertly with his own distinctive twist. She never found him particularly attractive but she did enjoy talking with him. His intelligence came through on subjects just a bit foreign to her. It was challenging. It drew her to him. But mostly it was fun. His brown eyes sparkled with merriment when he was about to engage her in some verbal repartee that he knew she would respond to in a way that would ramp up the energy in the room. She was pondering over what he meant to her while she sipped the pinot grigio and minded the sauce that was thickening to perfection on the stove. Thinking that she would love to feed him sometime. Something that she had prepared with him in mind. Something that would engage him in a way that made her irresistible to him. And wondered if she would ever have the chance. For now, the music would have to do.