"It was the way he sipped his coffee," she told me with a stern glare. "I could just tell, you know? I just knew."

"Yea," I nodded, taking a concentrated, quiet, easy sip of my coffee.

"He slurped it like a pig. His tongue was sticking out." Her eyes wandered out the window. "I don't know. He was a nice guy. But I just knew it wasn't going to work out."

I sat back in the couch and watched her mindlessly play with her rings. She peeked at me and quickly dropped her hands to the table.

"It was other things too, it wasn't just the coffee. But it was just that—just that I could suddenly tell when I saw him sip his coffee. You know?"

I grinned and sat up. "I know, I know. I don't think you're nuts, if that's what you're worried about."

"You don't?" She was playing with her rings again.

"Nope."

"I don't know. Five guys in three weeks kinda seems a lot." She shot me another stern glare. "It's a lot for me, you know."

"Yea, yea, I know, I know," I nodded. I regarded my cup, then took another sip. She ran a finger around the brim of her cup and picked it up.

"Five guys in three weeks…" she repeated in a whisper. She sat towards the tip of her couch.

"What I think that means," I shuffled in my seat and cleared my throat, "is that you now have a better idea of what you want out of a man."

Her eyes widened. "Yes, see, you know. Exactly," she nodded.

"You've met enough guys now that you have a pretty firm idea of the kind of guy you want. There's no more guessing needed." I chugged the rest of the coffee down.

"Yes. So now, on the first date, I can tell, I can just tell if we're going to get along or not." Her eyes wandered out the window again. She pursed her lips and arched her brow. "Ohmigosh, that car almost hit that lady crossing the street."

I followed her glance and watched a BMW speed by. "Damn, some people," I shook my head.

She returned her gaze to me. "For number four, it was the way he'd call and never leave a message. It was kinda spooky. Kinda like a stalker," she scowled.

"That's kinda harsh don't you…"

"But you know what I mean, right? Don't you hate it when someone calls but doesn't leave a message?" She shook her head and waved her hand as she spoke.

"Yea, I do." I settled deeper into the couch.

"Number three was harder to tell. We had two dates, but then all he kept asking for was when we were going to go drinking. I told him I don't drink," she sighed. "But he didn't listen or care."

"Or was thinking with his penis?" I mused with a smirk.

"Yea, his damn penis. What's up with that?" She scowled again and looked towards the counter. "You're running low on coffee."

I looked inside my cup and saw the foam of the dying whipped cream. "Very observant of you."

"Want some more?" She squinted her eyes. "They have… mocha chai. What's that?"

"Nah, I'm good." I lapped up the remaining whipped cream suds and put the cup down. "Ahhh, all good."

"Okay." She studied her cup. "I've been talking to much. I haven't touched my coffee at all."

"That's okay. I wanna keep hearing this. Tell me about number two."

"Number two." She sat upright in her couch. "These are comfy couches," she regarded, surveying her seat. She smiled. "Comfy."

"Number two?"

"Number two. All he talked about was work. He complained about it, about his coworkers, about the stuff he did. I… I don't even remember what he did." She played with her rings again.

"He didn't leave much of an impression, did he?"

"Oh, but he did." She gave me a sly smirk with one side of her mouth. Her eyes tinkled. "He's a good kisser."

I laughed. "Ha! No shit! You kissed him!" I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, he was gorgeous. And handsome. And, oh, I don't know. Something about him was just so… ah, he was so damn hot!"

"Heh heh!" I chortled.

"But that was after two dates. Number three didn't even get there."

"So you kissed the guy, then you dumped him?" I scratched my chin and watched her fingers slid over to her rings again.

"No, we talked a lot after that second date. Then we had a third date, but then I began to see him for what he really was, a self-absorbed buffoon. Other than work, he kept telling me how all these other girls were after him."

"Really?" I shook my head. "Why would he be trying to get you jealous? He already got a kiss out of you."

"I don't know. He was a buffoon, that's all I know." She shook her head looked down at her rings. "What a shame. A hot buffoon."

"And number one, I think I remember you telling me about him."

"Yea. He was the sports car guy. He thought he was all that just because he has a Porche. What a prick he was."

I slowly sat up from my couch. She tilted her head and watched. "I…" I cleared my throat. "I notice a pattern here."

"You do? What?"

"Your first few guys were obvious jerks. But you still went out with them a couple of times." I watched her play with her ring. She looked down at her fingers again.

"Sorry. I do that a lot, huh?"

"Heh, s'okay. No worries." I cleared my throat again. "So by the last few, you were beginning to be able to tell who was a keeper and who wasn't right away." She stopped playing with her rings. "That means your initial weeding out process is getting better."

Her eyes sparkled and she smiled. "Yea! Totally! Because I've gone out on so many dates, I'm learning from my mistakes and am making better decisions now. That's what I'm totally doing."

"Yup," I nodded.

"And it's easier for me to spot the jerks earlier on."

"Yup," I nodded again.

She beamed and sat back in her chair.

. . .

Can you tell whether or not a relationship will work out after one date?