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It was early fall and I was coming home from my job as a slaesman in a high end men's shop in Manhattan, so I was dressed to the nines, as they say. I am a nice looking Italian guy, 6ft tall and built like a football player. . . lots of muscle, no fat, and while I look very GQ in a suit, I have lots of tattoos and big arms that make me look quite different in street clothes. I had taken off my suitcoat and rolled up my sleeves, and I saw her coyly glancing at me on the bus. Finally, she said shyly. . . "I like your tattoos"
I walked over and struck up a conversation and was able to get her phone number.
