Yet.It was about a year later when Christy called me on my cell phone;“Hi Harry.”“What can I do for you, Christy?”“Let’s get together some...where.”“You’re with Phil now; it’s not going to happen.”“Just for lunch ... I could meet you out in that cute place in Somerville. Come on, Harry, just for lunch. I miss the talks we used to have; I could use your input on a few things.”Talk, wise advise, I could give her those.“Alright. One o’clock?”But of course it wasn’t just lunch in the end.“We need to. Aisha rang the door bell and got no answer. She hit the button again and was just about to walk away as the door slowly opened. A white man wearing shorts and a form fitting t-shirt emerged from inside and smiled softly."May I help you?" he asked.Aisha couldn't help but notice how attractive he was."Hi, my name is Aisha and I'm in your neighborhood letting people know about our new mosque that was just built down the road. We're asking for donations as well as inviting people to come worship. Here I was praying while my lips are getting swollen and slippery. That made me feel worse. I started just putting those horny feelings out of my head." "Mom, I'm sorry. It's a shame you grew up that way, especially considering the fact that women are entitled to sexual pleasure."Up to now, our conversation had been held straight ahead. We hadn't looked at each other. But with my last statement, she turned to look at me."What do you mean?" I call it my Theory of Women. Women are born with 2. The Blue Water Grill was the brainchild of NYC restaurateur Stephen Hanson, and his usual attention to detail and quality was evident. We enjoyed a superb meal, a smattering of light jazz, and an evening that never faltered. We talked as if we had known each other forever, with no awkward silences or miscues. We didn't dwell much on the current crisis, but our conversation carried us everywhere, leaping from one subject to another like a word association test on steroids.We talked about.