telling my mystery girl that I'll be
waiting every Thursday night...
in the basement
of the Virgin Vault.
So, in complete darkness,
we can renew our relationship...
until both of us decide
to reveal our identities.
You sit in the dark
every Thursday night?
You're a sick man.
You're a freak!
- That's it. I'm outta here.
- Alright, man. Take it easy.
And if she's easy,
take her twice.
My whole operation was
a romantic bay of pigs.
Id already spent several
Thursday nights in the dark...
and she'd yet to show up.
It's me. Wendy.
- She didn't come, did she?
- No.
- How did you know I was down here?
- I read your personal ad.
It's after midnight.
She's probably not gonna show.
But I thought you might want
some dinner. Come for a food.

Wendy was the
über-girl next door.
A testament to why women in
our society are cheer-leaders.
Everything she did
was perfect.
She was arousing in that virginal
MaryAnn, not Ginger sort of way.
This kind of girl is scary.
She's the kind of girl
you take home to mom.
And even scarier, she's the kind
you marry and she becomes your mom.
She dresses you, feeds you...
leaves notes on toilettes telling you
what chores need to be done.
She's scary because you could
see yourself falling for her.
But, at the same time,
you feel that if you fall for her...
you're settling for
just the average.
What?
You're just so perfect.
I hate when people say that.
I don't wanna be perfect.
So my dad had polio
when he was a kid...
and he had this
really bad leg.
And whenever he walked...