MEET ME ON THE MOON

MEET ME ON THE MOON
Three thousand, and five hundred square feet, four bedrooms, two of them were master suites, three and half bathrooms, and a three car garage all brick and built from the ground up. The only part of the house that I didn't have any say so was the kitchen. I hired a professional designer for that with instructions to make it a kitchen any woman would die for. I built the house with intentions on having a wife and working on a family by now. Two years later, no wife, no girl friend, no family.
Loneliness had become my friend and enemy. My friend during times when business wasn't going so good. I was able to escape to my man cave, blast my jazz and not think of quarterly losses. My enemy when I came back up stairs wanting and needing a home cooked meal, a soulful meal. Loneliness was what made me decided to post my profile on a dating site called hookabrotherup.com. The gentleman who owned the site suggested that I post a picture with my ad
"In my professional experience," he said. "Photo ads receive the most hits." He said.
I posted a picture of myself after a full body workout and within an hour my in-box was filled with many lonely, horny women from all over the world. Some invited me out on a dates. Others made it perfectly clear they only wanted sex. Only one woman sent me a picture
"You want to join us?" She yelled at me.
I was tempted to join them, but passed. I blew each of them a kiss and headed toward the bar.
I scanned the bar looking for the outfit Joy would be wearing. She sent a picture of it to my phone earlier in the day; a white tee-shirt with fancy lettering on the back, black designer jeans, and white leather boots decorated with gold buttons . I soon spotted Joy at the bar chatting with the female bartender. I casually strolled over and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," I interjected.