The dinner is amazing. He's a great cook. The wine he has on hand isn't expensive, but it ain't Two-Buck-Chuck either and it's perfectly paired with the meal. There's never a lull in conversation. He says the right thing. He's funny. Witty. Quick. A great host.
Just before you get ready to leave, he remembers something that he wanted to show you in the basement. He's pretty excited about it because it ties into something you mentioned earlier in the evening, so you follow him down into the darkness, because he's seemed like a decent fellow all night. Then you get down there, and as he's fiddling around in a box on the other side of the room, muttering something to himself about being, "pretty sure this is the box"...you realize that you are standing next to a shelf that is completely stacked, jam-packed, FULL of various lady parts in jars.
...
I feel pretty sure I've nailed it.
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I feel pretty sure I've nailed it.