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Mr. Right On By Twinkle Jackson There's a reason why clichés become clichés. Take "too good to be true," for example. If someone sounds perfect, chances are you missed something that's probably as big and bad as what's wrong with everyone else, it's just hidden a little deeper. Case in point, my date last week: 6-foot-4, 185 pounds, charming, appropriate--fine. We met at a good spot, went to another good spot and the evening kept going until it was very late. He left gracefully without a kiss. The following Saturday we went hiking and picnicked on pan-Asian salad-bar food from Harvest. How could that not be perfect? After the hike I learned more about his job with at-risk youth and his degree in psychology, then we went to my place. We realized we were alone in my crowded house and had a down and downright dirty little hook-up on the couch, the pull-up bar (did I mention he was 6-foot-4?) and the kitchen counter. Damn. Of course we scheduled a date for the following night. He took me out for trendy sushi and we walked home (his) in the rain. His really cute roommate was home watching TV. We all sat around watching The Simpsons for an episode or two, then my date pressed a button on the remote and ... The Sopranos was on! "It's too good," I thought. "They have HBO!" After The Sopranos (which really is the best thing going on TV these days) ended, my date and I went to his room and made out. Finally alone with the door shut, we rolled around on his bed, pulling at each others' clothes. With his tight abs and baggy jeans, he really had it going on. He had been in some ridiculously long relationship and apparently someone taught him a lot. He knew exactly what I was thinking. Plus, I kept saying, "Damn. Damn." So what about him isn't too good to be true? Damn. [ San Francisco | MetroActive Central | Archives ]