From Causes of Insomnia: "Within the First Five Minutes"

It wasn’t the worst date she’d ever been on. She might still go home with him. It had been a while since someone asked her out and even longer since she’d gone home with anyone. He was weird, there was no denying that. But maybe she’d go home with him yet. You never know.

“What are your interests?” she asked, prodding her fork into the bed of salad greens, hoping the evening might take a turn toward the better.

So far he’d told her he didn’t fold laundry, he hung up everything, even his socks. He’d told her how when he was younger he was turned on by ladles. He’d told her he didn’t know the order of the months until sophomore year of college.

“Sorry?” he said, raising his eyes from the soup, through which he was distractedly dragging a spoon.

“What are your interests?”

He weighed his answer. “Wheat,” he said stoically.

She frowned. “Anything else?” Just say something, she thought, say something so I know you’re not a psycho.

“Shaving.”

*

Later, she was amazed how smooth his cheeks felt between her thighs.