Normally, when I think of where a Playboy Bunny would hang out, it isn't a local neighborhood pub in Cambridge. But, back in April of 2001, I discovered first hand that this can indeed happen.

I showed up at the Toad, a bar in Cambridge, and took a seat at the bar. A little while later this older blonde (in her late 20s) with an ample (fake) bosom and weird lips (full of collagen, it seemed) came over and stood next to my stool. She placed her drink on the bar near mine and asked if I wouldn't mind putting her coat on my stool as well. I told her it would be fine, and she proceeded to remove her leopard print jacket. I stood up, put it on my stool, and sat back down. At this point I suppose I should have offered her the seat, but I wasn't thinking with my brain anymore.

I noticed that she was wearing a black T-shirt that said "Playboy!" across her chest. I asked her if she was a model, and that's when it all started. She then told me how she had done some modeling of clothes in catalogs, and eventually ended up in Playboy.

We then discussed where we work and live, and she told me that she was originally interested in optometry, and with the money she earned from Playboy, she was attending Harvard, but failing miserably because she didn't do any of the work (go figure).

She went on to say that she was engaged to some businessman who was the CTO of some important financial corporation. And she was being forced into the marriage by both him and her father.

Around this time she asked me, "Do you want to fuck?", to which I replied, "Sure". Her response was a laugh and saying something about that being a litmus test of hers.

So the Playboy Bunny and I went next door, where it was quieter, with the intention of getting food, but they had already closed the kitchen. So she talked more again about her interest in optometry and her struggling with Harvard and losing money fast. She repeated this a few times.

We decided to leave after a drink and I walked her to her house, which was a large condo right across from the Toad. She opened the door and I immediately saw little kids toys strewn about the living room. After opening the door she said, "There's something I forgot to mention." Turns out she has a son, 6 or so years old at the time. Apparently a brilliant child, she said.

She gave me the tour of the house, which included three floors, plus a basement/garage. She had a Chevy Blazer and a Mitsubishi 3000GT in the garage. She said she loved the 3000GT more than her son. I cringed inside.

We went back to the kitchen and talked more about her pending marriage, her father (who is high up on the chain at some important biotech corporation), her son, her former modeling career, and cartoons.

At some point she pulled another litmus test thing and asked me, "Do you want so see my tits?", to which I again replied, "Sure." She didn't show me them, though. We didn't fuck, either. But we did exchange e-mail and phone numbers, and when she walked me out, we kissed.

I haven't seen her since. The last time we talked she said her fiance had moved in and they were "going to try to be in love."