The other day a handsome fellow named Hank came into the office. He was courteous, cheerful, and most importantly “hannnndsome.” I prodded Cecily our receptionist with my pick to let her know that Suzie didn’t have a chance cleaning Hank’s teeth. Hunky Hank will be all mine.
I sat in the hygienist chair gripped in anticipation. I nibbled my nails, tapped my foot, and constantly yanked and tugged at my scrubs to make them look neat and professional. Secretly I prayed that Hank just ate a Snickers bar or something gewy and gross. Or better yet, maybe he doesn’t even know what floss is. Now that will give me plenty of time to work on that mouth of his.
Cecily leaned out of her squat reception area and glared. It’s time. Is Hank the one? I wonder how he feels about dogs or even having kids? Does he support gun control? Vote Republican? Drink with the boys on Friday night? Watch Nascar on Sundays?
With the clipboard as my shield I enter the waiting room. Hank is comfortably reading a Time magazine. Now that’s a good sign. He’s literate and informed on current events. Staring, I let out a small sigh pass to the mortification of Cecily who begins to make faint gagging noises.
“Hi Hank!” I say with the broadest smile I can muster that shows off my magnificent white teeth. “I’m Sally and I’ll be cleaning your teeth before Dr. Swinkbottom gives them the once over.”
Returning a kind smile, Hank rose and walked toward me. I extended my hand and he gave a firm handshake that left me entire body paralyzed. My grip hardened, a hint of panic showed in Hank’s eye, and then Cecily slammed a book on the ground to rouse my fluttering mind. I haven’t felt like this in ages. I mean, it must be, well, over a week at least.
Hank took a seat in the chair and I swiftly laid him back, elevated the seat, and arranged the light on his teeth. To my immediate chagrin he had immaculate teeth that I would be able to clean in five minutes. Floss? Yes. Candy bar? No. How am I supposed to begin a relationship if he has perfect teeth?
While laying my tools out, I noticed that Hank kept his left hand conspicuously hidden in his left pocket. “So, he wants to play hard to get?” I said to myself. I decided then and there that for the sake of love and our happy future together I must draw this out. I needed at least 30 minutes to win Hank’s heart and that meant the teeth cleaning of his life. Of course if that fails I wrote my phone number on the back of his complementary toothbrush.