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Twins by DKB So, you may be asking, what's it like going out with an identical twin? Well, it's really just like you'd expect. It's a bit confusing at first, especially if he doesn't tell you and when you meet his brother the first time you think it's him and they laugh about it so much, which is a bit childish. But when you get to know them well you realise they're not exactly identical. Chris is just slightly taller. And Sam's lips curl slightly differently when he smiles. And Chris has a tiny scar on the back of his left hand. And anyway you just get to recognise them, somehow, without thinking about that stuff. But that doesn't stop them joking around. They constantly swap their phones. And would you believe it? They share an email address! You often don't know which of them a message has come from and you can't tell either of them anything private except in person. I think some twins go out of their way to be different and lead separate lives to emphasise their individuality. But Sam and Chris were totally the opposite. They did almost everything together. They were in and out of each other's flats all the time and they were constantly amused when people confused them. I suppose some girls might find that a bit tiring. They might want to know when it's their boyfriend or his brother texting them. But, honestly, I stopped bothering. They're both so nice and funny, oh, and handsome, that mostly I didn't mind which of them I was with. It was like the best two-for-one deal ever. So, when they really wanted to be different after all, and wanted me to choose between them, I just couldn't. That's what caused the trouble, I guess. I first met Sam when he came into the bar I work at. I think he was the most stunningly gorgeous man I'd ever seen. He was immensely tall, well over six foot, and very athletic, toned, rugged, chiselled cheeks, baby- blue eyes, the works. And he had bright red hair. He was an amazing- looking guy. He started chatting me up immediately. Now normally I know how to deal with customers who get too interested. But something about Sam made me feel quite hot and bothered. And he was really charming. Before I knew it I'd told him I was off shift shortly and I let him buy me a drink and promised to see him again soon. Things progressed from there. I think we went back to his place after the second date and within a week or two we were hanging out together almost every day. I just felt swept along. A couple of weeks after I first met Sam I was working in the bar and a red-headed giant walked in and I stretched up and put my lips to his. And then another identical man came in and said, "Hey, Lisa! I see you've met my brother." Oh my God! I was totally embarrassed. But they just laughed about it, the cheeky buggers. And then quite often all three of us hung out together, just strolling through the park or getting a coffee, or going to a movie or whatever. Don't get me wrong, it was mostly just me and Sam. But when I walked down the street with these two incredible hunks it was pretty nice. We must have looked a bit funny though. I'm quite little, only five two. I barely come up to their chests. Sam could pick me up in his arms like a doll. I felt like a little kid next to him. When I lay on his broad chest and he wrapped his arms round me I felt so warm and comfortable, it was like a dream. So we were all like best of friends, incredibly close. But to start off with I was definitely with Sam. We'd be eating, laughing, watching television in any of our flats. But there was always a point when Chris discreetly left us together. If we were in Chris' flat he'd sometimes take Sam's keys and go off to Sam's flat and then we'd have Chris' bed to ourselves. Is that a bit freaky? Maybe. And maybe I was too blind and greedy to recognise any warning signs. I just loved having two wonderful men to myself. Chris hardly had any girl of his own during this period, but I didn't think to wonder why. It's not like he couldn't have had them lining up for him if he'd wanted. I think Sam sort of realised there was a problem, but when he complained about it I thought he was just being jealous. We ended up having a big row and I stormed off. Then, later, I felt stupid. I tried to phone up and apologise. I was crying and begging him to come round. I wanted to see him. Then he said, "Actually, I'm Chris. Still want me to come round?" "You bastard!" I said. "Why didn't you say so to start off with? But fuck, yeah, come round. I want to talk to you." And I really did just want to talk. But he brought a bottle. And one thing led to another. And I guess I have to accept some of the blame for what happened then. I don't know exactly what went on between Sam and Chris after that. I think now it might not have been very pretty. But when they both came to visit me it seemed like everything was just hunky dory. "We share everything," said Chris. "So we don't mind sharing you, if you want to," said Sam. And Sam kissed me. And Chris kissed me. And we went out together for a walk in the park and sitting on a bench eating ice creams and laughing together as if nothing was different. I felt so good sitting there between them, with both their arms round me, and I didn't want anything to change. But it wasn't the same. After that it was hardly ever the three of us together. Two or three times a week either Sam or Chris would ask me out or come by work at the end of my shift and we'd do something together, but never both of them. I didn't realise it then, but I think they must have been arranging it between them because it never happened that, say, Sam would phone up and I'd have to say sorry but Chris already asked for that night. And if, for instance, I suggested to Chris that we all go out for a meal or something then he'd say that Sam was preparing for an interview, or doing something else, and couldn't join us. And the same if I suggested the same to Sam. So I stopped suggesting. I just went along with it all. I didn't want to rock the boat or say anything that might spoil things. Maybe this seems a bit pathetic, but I didn't want to lose either of them. I was perfectly happy, having fun, enjoying my time, not thinking about the consequences. Of course, even if I had thought about it I could never have predicted what actually happened. It was a while after I first slept with Chris that things really started to get strange. I was sitting in a Starbucks when this girl came in, really striking looking. She was very tall, at least five eleven if she was an inch; but with a great figure, not at all fat, statuesque, you know; great skin and, get this, thick, flowing, red hair. I know what you're thinking. This is a story, so it can't be a coincidence. She must be a sister, or something. But it wasn't a story then, when I was living it. It was just stuff happening. It was too weird to think this random woman had anything to do with me. I persuaded myself I was imagining any resemblance between her and my boyfriends. Ok, she was a big redhead. So what? But still. I couldn't help watching her, while trying to hide behind my magazine, hoping she wouldn't see me. She looked awkward and nervous and was dressed a bit oddly, in too long, baggy jeans, tightly belted, and a baggy jumper, but, fairly obviously, no bra. Standing in the queue she had her arms crossed over her breasts, as if trying to hide them. But it was no good. Those babies were big. She bought a bottle of orange juice with cash from her jeans pockets. No purse. And then she came right up to my table and she said, "Hi, can I sit here?" "Uh, sure," I said. Then she said, "You must be Lisa. Sam mentioned you. I'm their cousin." Ok. That's a plain, simple, if rather odd explanation. Sam and Chris have a girl cousin, who looks almost exactly like them, but who they never mentioned before. She has come to visit. Sam has shown her my picture and told her where to find me and she has decided to come and see me, despite not knowing me from Adam. I really didn't believe it, but what else could it be? "Er, hello," I said, hesitantly. "What's your name?" This question seemed to throw her. "Ooh, um, it's...I'm S..." Then she giggled, leaned towards me and whispered, "Actually, I'm Sam. Can you believe it? I turned into a girl!" Something about my goggle-eyed, slack-jawed expression at this point must have suggested I was having some trouble accepting this. "It's true," she insisted. "It's really me. Me and Chris found this thing out of an antique shop. You hold it and say a magic word and then, bang! I'm a Samantha! Isn't that weird?" "Uh..." "Come round to the flat if you don't believe me and I'll show you. It's amazing!" I was beginning to think this was a complicated joke, though I couldn't think what the point could be. But there didn't seem any harm in going along with it in the meantime. So I finished my coffee and the girl, let's call her Samantha, glugged down her OJ. Then we went back to Sam's. She sort of shuffled when she walked and I noticed her shoes were too big. When we reached the flat Samantha fetched the key out of her pocket and we went in. No-one else was there. Samantha went into the bedroom and then came out as Sam. I didn't have to actually see it in front of me. I believed it then. "My God!" I said. "I know!" said Sam. "How the fuck did that happen?" I asked. "I don't know," he said. "It was like I said. Chris and I were poking around an old junk shop and we bought a big box of knick-knacks, candle- sticks, old ornaments and trinkets and things. And there was a funny statue there. Let me show you." He went back into the bedroom and brought out a little statuette, about five inches high, on a pedestal. The statue was of - I suppose you'd say a hermaphrodite. But it was the opposite way round from normal. It had a boy top and a girl bottom. "There's a word underneath," he told me. He turned it over and showed me the pedestal and, sure enough, there were characters engraved there, spelling out something that looked like gibberish to me. He said, "What you do is you hold it and say the word and then you change." "How often have you done this?" I asked. "Two or three times over the last few days. But today is the first time I went out. It was a bit scary. I felt like everyone was looking at me." "They probably were," I told him. "You were hot." He blushed sweetly. "But why would you do it?" I asked. "What for?" "I don't know," he replied. "It's just interesting. A new experience." He shrugged. "Staying for dinner?" I said, "Alright," and he cooked us a meal and we drank a bottle of wine in front of the telly. For most of the evening we didn't talk any more about what had happened. But eventually my curiosity burst out of me and I said, "Would you do it again for me, so I can really see it?" He smiled slyly. He knew what I meant. "Alright," he said. "Watch very carefully. See if you can see how it's done." Then he pulled off his shirt. "I have to do it naked, otherwise it's uncomfortable," he explained. "The first time it happened I burst most of the buttons on my shirt. It was a good thing I was indoors." When he was down to his boxers he picked up the statue and pronounced the word. I was looking directly at him, but I can't say I really saw what happened. I saw a funny blur and then, in an instant, there was Samantha, voluptuously heavy-breasted, broad-hipped, copper-haired - stunning, basically. She seemed self-conscious, not surprisingly. She hunched her shoulders a bit, shrugged nervously, smiled wanly. Then she said the word again and my Sam was back, with a cocky grin and the start of an erection I noticed. We went to bed and, well, my God! It was like no other night I'd had. Part of it must have been the exotic excitement of what I'd just seen happen to my boyfriend. But the sex itself was also amazing. Sam was always great at the main course, but that night the starters and the desert were also incredible. He did things with his fingers that no man had done to me before. Part way through I got an image in my head of Samantha, naked on her back with her hands between her legs, experimenting. I shivered with excitement. I closed my eyes leaned back and let Sam carry on doing what he was doing. When I woke the next morning the first thing I saw in front of me was a thin grey t-shirt barely covering an enormous pair of knockers dangling right in my face. "Gahh!" I mumbled. It was too early in the morning for this. "Are you awake?" asked Samantha. "Uh, yeah, I suppose so. What do you want?" "I want to buy some clothes. Would you come with me?" I shrugged. "Sure, whatever." We grabbed some breakfast and then visited a department store, where we got some bras and knickers and a cheap pair of tennis shoes. Samantha went into the ladies to change into some underwear and came out looking a bit more confident and a lot less wobbly-chested. Then we hit the second-hand shops. She said she didn't want to spend a lot since she probably wouldn't actually wear any of it more than once or twice. So, not really like a real girl, then! Anyway, we made a tour of second-hand and charity shops and because they didn't have a big range of stuff and because Samantha's size meant not a lot of things actually fitted her she ended up getting a weird bunch of different things. We got some jeans and sweatshirts, but also skirts, maxi, midi and mini, a cotton blouse, and a crop top. Samantha was like a little girl with a dressing up box, picking up different things at random to play with, stripy leggings, a straw hat, a tutu, hot pants. It was like a big game. And I have to admit I quite enjoyed myself as well. It was like going out with an over-excited little sister. We ate at an Italian and the waiter was all over us, calling us "beautiful ladies" and flirting shamelessly. By this time Samantha was dressed in a calf-length floral skirt and a pale blouse, looking a lot more modest than she had that morning, when nothing but a rather flimsy t-shirt had hidden her bosom from the world. But she still attracted a lot of attention, because she was very pretty, but also of course because she was so big. Sam was well used to getting attention, but somehow as a girl he seemed very self-conscious about it. It was kind of cute. In the evening we went back to his place, he changed back into a guy and, again, truly great sex followed. I saw Samantha a couple of times for lunch in the next few days and it was a lot of fun. Being with her felt like sharing an incredible secret. It was fun watching her deal with ordinary stuff, counter assistants, bus drivers and so on, who were obviously affected by her and had no idea she was really a guy. What's that? Did I try it? Me, turn into a boy? Ick, no! Horrible! Alright, I confess. I did have a go, but only because Sam insisted. But nothing happened. It only works on guys. The next Friday I was on a girl's night out with old school friends. We'd had a few in a pub and then moved on to a nightclub. When we got there someone went to get in the drinks and the rest of us found a place by the dance floor. And suddenly I saw a familiar redhead boogying away, towering over the other dancers. She was dressed very differently from the girl I'd met the previous week, in spike-heeled ankle boots, a denim mini-skirt and a sort of green bustier thing. She was shimmying wildly with a blandly handsome young bloke who was staring fixedly, seemingly in a hypnotic daze, at her cleavage. I caught her eye and waved hello. But she looked guilty, bent over and said something to her dance partner, then made quickly for the exit. I didn't know what she was playing at. I wondered if she thought I'd be jealous of her dancing with a guy. It was ridiculous. I knew it was just for fun. I hurried after her and when I got out of the club she was only at the end of the block. Her boots weren't really made for running in. I called out "Sam! Samantha! Don't run off!" When I caught up with her she was leaning against a low wall and panting and she looked at me and said, "Actually, I'm Christine." Oh God! I asked her what she was playing at and she said, "Well, you don't think Sam could get a new toy without me wanting to play with it as well, do you?" I felt angry, suddenly. "What about me?" I asked. "Am I one of Sam's toys that you had to play with too?" She looked pained. She said, "God! No! I love you, Lisa. I really do. I..." Then she looked down awkwardly at the ground. Suddenly embarrassed about what she was wearing, she wrapped her arms round her chest. Then she said, "You know you'll have to choose between us eventually, don't you? This can't last forever." I felt a sudden stab in my heart. I knew Chris was right, but I couldn't face it. She said, "So, come on. Which of us is it to be, me or Sam? You've known us long enough now to decide." Then she saw the look on my face and relented. "Never mind," she said. "You don't have to answer now. But think about it. Think about it hard." She paused and then she said, "You know, Sam thinks that finding out what it's like to be a girl will make him a better boyfriend, give him an advantage over the competition." "I see," I said. "I'm not sure," she said. "It sounds silly to me, but I can't take the risk that he's right. I'll try anything that might make you choose me over him. That's why I was in there, shaking my booty, trying to get some action." "That's not quite what being a girl is all about," I said. "I suppose so," she replied. "I guess I'll just go home. I don't feel much like dancing now." I took her hand. "Please stay," I said. "Come and meet my friends. It'll be fun." And it was. I introduced Christine as an old workmate and she immediately charmed everyone. Sam and Chris, as boy or girl, are both very charming, funny, kind and generous. Pretty soon it was as if she'd been one of our group for ever and we all had a great time. Christine even got on the dance floor again, with a rugged looking older man who was even taller than she was. I couldn't see what happened, but when she got back she was looking flushed and a bit flustered. "He kissed me," she said, "and I liked it!" "That's great," I said. "I'm glad you stayed." At the end of the evening Christine and I took a cab to my flat. She pulled the statuette out of her handbag and in two minutes Chris was back and we went to bed. But the next morning, of course, he realised he didn't have any boy clothes with him, so he had to turn into Christine and put on her party gear again. I gave her a wrap to wear round her top to stop the commuters ogling her tits and she went back to her flat. That was a great night, but I couldn't help worrying over what Christine had said. How could I choose between them? If I forced myself to think about it I felt it had to be Sam. After all, I had met him first and been with him the most. Sam was the perfect man for me. I knew I could love him for ever. But when I thought of Chris I couldn't think of any reason why I should prefer Sam. They were both perfect. It suddenly didn't seem fair to plump for Sam just because of the accident of meeting him first. It was agony thinking like this. A few days later Chris and Sam, in boy form, came round to ask if I'd made up my mind. "This is it, Lisa," said Chris. "We both want to be with you forever. We both want to marry you. Will you? Will you marry one of us?" Oh my God! I felt faint. I didn't know what to think. I could hardly speak. I whispered, "Oh, yes. Yes, but..." "But you have to choose which of us it is to be," said Sam, "me or Chris. You have to decide now." "I..." It was on the tip of my tongue to say, "I choose Sam." But I hesitated. Just for a second I honestly could not decide between them at all. That hesitation led to everything that happened next. "You can't choose, can you?" said Chris, smiling. "Don't worry. We understand. There's another way." "I can choose," I said, "I just need more time." "No you can't," said Sam. "You never will. So we're going to choose for you." Then they explained their plan. There would be two dates, a week apart, when each of them would give me their best shot, do their utmost to prove that they were the perfect romantic partner. Then they would evaluate the dates and my reactions to each of them and they would decide, somehow, which of them would be best for me. The winner would then get me to himself. "And the loser has to be a girl forever." I don't know who said that. I was too stunned to notice. "What?" I said, aghast. "It's the only way," said Chris. "We both know that whoever loses will eventually try to get you back. And we know that you won't refuse him." I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. "Don't deny it. The only way to solve this is to put one of us permanently out of the picture, out of reach of temptation, as it were. We'll use the statue one last time and then get rid of it, sell it on eBay perhaps. Then that will be that." "That's completely mad," I said. "It's what we've decided," said Sam. Then they left. The next two weeks were torture. I didn't hear from either of them at all. They didn't respond to phone calls or emails. They weren't at home when I tried their flats. I later found out that they went to stay with their parents, to keep out of my reach and, presumably, to explain to their parents that they would soon be losing a son and gaining a daughter, but not quite in the way that usually means. Then, on a Tuesday, a white card came through my door with gold embossed letters on it which explained that Mr Samuel Chisholm requested the pleasure of my company from seven o'clock and gave the date of that Friday. When Friday came I felt nervous, but excited, like waiting for a prom date. I had no idea where I would be going, but I thought I should dress up for it, so I put on a creamy strapless party dress and strappy heels for a fun night out on the town. At seven the door bell went and I answered it to a dapper looking chauffeur who presented me with a bunch of roses. He waited patiently while I put them in water, then escorted me to a big limo. Sam got out, looking dazzling in his tux. He kissed my hand and helped me into the car. We drove across town to a restaurant I had heard about, but never been to. Inside it was incredibly plush with teak and velvet and gold and it was decorated in an elaborate, old-fashioned sort of rococo style. I was given a menu with no prices on it, so I don't know exactly how much my meal cost, but it must have been a lot. But it was incredible food, cooked, garnished and displayed to bring out perfection of taste, smell and look. It was three courses, with palette-cleansing sorbets between each one, plus coffee and liqueurs. But the portions were just the right size so I never felt too full. And Sam chose the perfect wine to go with it. It was altogether the finest meal out I ever had. And of course Sam was charming and funny as ever. I felt lost in his eyes and his words all night. At the end, when we were on the coffee, he pulled out a slim box from his jacket and gave it to me. Inside it was lined with velvet, on which rested a diamond necklace. He insisted on personally putting it on me and when I looked down I could see it sparkling against my throat. Even when we left the restaurant the night still wasn't over. A horse- drawn carriage arrived and drove us together through the park to a picnic ground by the lake. It was a beautiful summer evening and the moon was full. Sam opened a bottle of champagne which the carriage driver had brought for us and a violinist came to serenade us. I felt utterly transported. When we were ready Sam sent a text and the limousine arrived and drove us back to my flat. Sam helped me out of the car and I led him into my flat and to my room and he laid me down, undressed me and made wonderful love to me. The next morning he was up and ready early. He waited until I was awake, then kissed me and said goodbye and before I was really aware of anything he was gone. I felt really weird. Intellectually I didn't know what was happening. I had no idea how this weird contest was going to play out. I ought to have felt concerned, but emotionally I was still high on the joy of the previous night. Shortly after he left the doorbell went again and I threw on my dressing gown and rushed to the door, convinced Sam was back to tell me to forget all the nonsense and just come away with him. But it was Christine. She bustled in, gave me a hug and said, "Hi Lisa. You must have had a wonderful night. I want you to tell me all about it." I was befuddled. "Huh, what?" She said, "You have to tell me everything. It's part of the deal. I have to hear how your date went so we can judge it properly. But you don't have to bother immediately. You get ready and I'll make breakfast." Still in a daze I showered and dressed and got to the kitchen to find Christine frying up a full cooked breakfast. It was the sort of breakfast you really can't face after a long night, but when you actually start eating it it turns out to be exactly what you needed all along. We didn't talk while we ate, but afterwards we walked to Starbucks and started talking on the way. Christine wanted to know about every detail of everything that happened, but I found it really difficult. I suppose the theory was that I'd find it easier talking to Christine than to Chris, as if she was just a friend wanting to hear my gossip. But it was still hard. "I know it's awkward, Lisa," she said, "But you have to try. Otherwise I'll only have Sam's word on how it went and it won't be fair." After we got to the cafe the questioning began in earnest. I really wasn't in the mood to tell her about my private night with Sam. But I could see she wouldn't leave me alone until I spilled the beans, so eventually I relented and started telling her what she wanted to know. But I felt a bit angry, so I tried to make her jealous by going on about how utterly perfect everything had been, how the necklace was the most beautiful I'd ever seen, how the restaurant was the grandest and poshest possible, and also how Sam had an enormous cock and how he'd ridden me like a stallion and had me in ecstasy all night. But it didn't have anything like the effect I'd hoped. Christine just sighed and squealed and giggled, like any girlfriend might have, and asked more questions - what exactly had Sam done? What did he say? How did it make me feel? Eventually Christine finished and said goodbye and then I was alone with my thoughts. On Tuesday I got another card with gold lettering. But this time it was Mr Christopher Chisholm who wanted to go out with me that Friday. When the day came I'd hardly started getting ready when the doorbell went. I was annoyed to think Chris was early, but when I got to the door I found it was a delivery boy with a big, flat box. When I opened it I found an exquisite, midnight blue, halter neck evening gown with a daringly plunging neckline. There were also gloves and court shoes in a matching colour, a string of pearls, and a card that said, "Wear this tonight, if you want to." I certainly did want to. In the full outfit I felt like a glamorous movie star from old Hollywood. When Chris arrived he met me at my door, with flowers, and then led me to an ordinary taxi. The restaurant was very nice, but not as fancy as the one I'd been to with Sam. The food was plain and simple, but expertly cooked and it went down a treat. But we didn't linger there because Chris had tickets for us to go to an opera. Now, I really like opera, but I don't get a chance to go often and it's usually a special occasion when I do. And it was certainly special that night, because we had a grand circle box to ourselves, as close to the action as it was possible to get without actually being on stage. We drank champagne and ate canapes while watching the opera, which was Mozart's The Magic Flute, which is a marvellous fantasy story about a brave prince who undertakes a magic quest for the sake of love. It was a really grand staging, with lovely costumes, and the singers were all fantastic. It really was a wonderful night. It was quite late when the opera finished so we went straight back to my flat afterwards. But in the taxi Chris took out a box, beautifully wrapped, and presented it to me. I untied the ribbon and inside there was an absolutely beautiful book. It was a special edition of Pride and Prejudice, which is my favourite novel, and it was leather-bound with gold-leaf on the title page, and I knew I would treasure it for ever. In bed Chris gave me a night that I would have remembered for a long time even without everything that went before. As Sam had the week before, Chris waited until I woke up, then said his goodbye and was away. Then the doorbell rang and it was Samantha's turn to cook me breakfast and interrogate me over coffee. Because I had given in to Christine I felt I had to answer all of Samantha's questions as well, but again I tried to make her feel jealous by extravagant praise of Chris, how exquisite his gifts to me were and what an expert lover he was. But she just smiled excitedly and pressed me for more details - where had he touched me? Had I come? How often? What I didn't know then and only found out later was that actually everything about my date with Sam, the location, the limousine and carriage, and the presents, had been chosen by Chris. And everything about my date with Chris had been arranged by Sam. It was their way of trying to separately assess how much I appreciated their good taste and thoughtfulness and how much I just enjoyed being with them. So when I praised Sam's choice of jewellery and restaurant to Christine it was actually Chris' taste I was complimenting. And the dress, opera and book had been Sam's choices. No wonder Samantha wasn't upset to hear me rave about them. Of course there was also the sex stuff. I don't know how each of them could listen to me describe their brother the way I did. But to be honest they were both fan- fucking-tastic in that department and I think they knew it. But anyway, eventually we ran out steam. Samantha had no more questions and I had nothing more to tell her. We just sat together quietly, on a couch at the back of Starbucks. Then Samantha leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and she said, "I love you, Lisa. I hope everything turns out alright." I said thanks and then I said, "May the best man win." She nodded and said, "That's what all this is about." Then she left. Then Sam and Chris met up and they made their decision. And I made my decision. About bloody time, you might say. And you might be right. But it wasn't so much a matter of making a decision as of finally realising the truth of it all. I think that deep down I always knew who I really loved, but until then I hadn't properly realised it, perhaps because I couldn't give myself any actual reasons. It had nothing to do with how good they were in bed, or who had the better taste in presents. It was something that couldn't be put into words, but which I think was actually there all the time. If only I had clearly seen it earlier, and said something earlier, we could have avoided this silly contest. But I'm not complaining. It's actually worked out really well for me. So who won? Well, technically Chris did, so I'm told. They got together and they each compared their assessment of their date with the report the other got from me the following morning. They scored every aspect of the dates by a lot of different criteria and then added everything up according to some formula they worked out. And apparently Chris came out marginally ahead. So then they... Oh, wait! There's the doorbell. I have to go. Sorry. Want to know who it is? It's my partner, Sam. That's right. My now-and-forever one true love, my tall, strong, handsome, flame-haired, bouncing-boobed Amazon princess Samantha is taking me out dancing tonight and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.