Once more with feeling??

How much do I love novocaine?

"Scaling" sounds innocent enough, right? It's basically an in-depth cleaning and how bad can that be? After having half the teeth in my mouth sandblasted with gallons of water, scraped with an iron hook and poked with tiny harpoons, I left my dentist's chair feeling drained.

I grabbed a quick peek in a mirror and noticed that as a result of my favorite anethestic, I bore a striking resemblance to a stroke victim.

Stepping out the dentist's chair, my cell phone chirped and I thought it might be Firecracker texting her arrival at Wrigley Field for the Cubs game. Sure, she's having fun while I'm dying here.

But no.

"UR Cubbie run is only temporary. Dont get too confident" was the text message sent by Super Bowl Guy.

Uh oh!

Checking my swollen, drooling face in my mirror, I said a silent prayer, "Please don't be in town. Please don't be in town."

He wasn't. But I was curious as to why I'd hear from him after, oh, say three months? In case you don't remember, he's the guy from New Jersey with whom I went to the Super Bowl and then he fell off the earth.

And then, there was my answer... in blue and red. According to my pocket Cubs' schedule, my boys will take on the Mets (SBG's team) in early August. I couldn't resist the urge to bash the NY team and predict a big win for the Cubs when the Mets arrive.

"So the winner gets to choose the evening's activities?" came the challenge from SBG. Oh, so he is planning to be in town. Hmmn...

Obviously, Super Bowl Guy is a terrible choice of company for me, but fortunately, I have a possible alternative.

Firecracker and I attended the Cubs game last Monday night and ended up sitting next to three guys from North Carolina. Fun guys in their forties (my target audience) and actual baseball fans, too!

Tall Southern Gent didn't talk much at first, letting his pal dominate the conversations. Later on, when Firecracker distracted the pal, TSG and I got to chat. It was quite a scene as TSG is 6' 8" and I'm, well, not. He found a bar rail to lean on while I got to learn random bits about him, most importantly, that he does not live in Chicago but works here occasionally (sound familiar?)

When we finally decided to leave, we stepped outside the bar and into a torrential rainstorm. We huddled together under the awning in front of the bar, waiting for a break in the storm.

"Your hair smells nice," said TSG as he wrapped his arms around my waist in a backward hug. Surprisingly, I didn't jump out of my skin as sudden as this show of affection was, but enjoyed the warmth and strength of his long arms around me.

He never asked for my number, but those of you who know me won't be surprised to hear that I gave him my card anyway. Some guys need a push, that's all.

Finally, the rain let up enough for him to flag a taxi for me and for me to give him my umbrella for the walk to the train. The evening ended with a nice (and not inappropriately passionate, read: no tongue) kiss goodnight.

Oh, except for the call that came 20 minutes later. "Just wanted to check that you got home okay."

Yep, he's a Southern Gentleman.

Seems my stock is going up!