F is for floozy

A few years back, I published a collection of humorous (I hope) articles that had been published in Floozy & Other Stories. Feel free to pick up a copy or several at Amazon or your local bookseller who can order if they are tragically remiss and haven't stocked it.

After it was published, two things about its title became apparent.

First, several girls made a point in claiming that they were the floozy mentioned. Naturally it was a just a joke for them, but still, I found it interesting that they were willing to say they were floozies. I made note of their names and phone numbers. One never knows when such information might be useful.

Second, people overwhelmingly assumed I was the floozy in the title. Yes, me. A paragon of virtue. And humble. Overwhelmingly humble.

I asked my friend Linda why that was.

"Well, you do date a lot," she said.

"How does that make me a floozy?" I asked.

"And it's usually different women," she said.

"That's not totally my fault," I said. "Protective orders alone generate a certain amount of turnover in my dating life."

"And you're about as faithful as a plastic cup," she said.

"That doesn't make sense," I said. "And it's not true. I'm always focused on the woman I'm dating. I'm faithful to her and her alone."

"Until the next date," she said.

... ... ... ... ...

"What was that?" she asked. "I can't seem to hear you."

"That's because I'm not going to dignify that with a reply," I said.

Anyway, I'm not the floozy in the book title. You have to read the book to find out the identify of the floozy, but it's not me, despite what Linda thinks. Or Lorie. Or Joan. Or Debbie. Or Pam. Or ... hmm ... never mind.