Like a character stepping from a novel, Loopy steps into the din and smoke of any of the coffee bars in Pinellas Co., and all of the lights dim except for a soft glow that surrounds him. He walks up to any of the fair game seated at say the bar in Insomnia, puts his arm around them and says "Where have you been, lover?"

Loopy is an aquaintance of mine, a contemporary even. He talks the talk and walks the walk of what it is I'm used to, with a speaking rhythm close to that of Pennsylvania. He's smart, and he knows it. He's crafty and he knows it. He's twenty, lithe, dashing and fair. Just because he is somewhat smaller than what Florida likes to put out in it's boys doesn't mean he's any less dangerous. And he knows it.

He is the one person who haunts these areas who truly can support himself programming. Florida doesn't make rocket scientists except by accident. We fly people in from places like Ohio and Maryland to send our monkeys into space.

But Loopy doesn't follow the guidelines of what is natural. He thinks and works in circles thus his name. We rarely call him that to his face, but of course he knows we call him that. I call him that. He kind of straightens up and smiles, blinking those lashes that I know take a minute each just to lift, when I begin with ,"Loopy, what do you think...?"

The guys hate him, especially the main characters in my saga with the West Side of Florida. Why? Because he gets the girls, this elegant if scruffy youngin' gets whom he wants when he wants them. And I laugh at his endeavors and his accomplishments.

He tries to hypnotize me as he speaks in a soothing tone of voice and kneads my hand. But I tell him I know what he's about, he denies it saying I don't know him, particuliarily if I think I know him. Ha! I do know better. He smells like my nemesis. He smells like a Slick not a Heathcliffe! And though he's adorable in ways sometimes I think I'm the only one who appreciates it, I pull me hand loose, kiss him on the top of his head and make my way home.

Yep. I've tasted you before, and you didn't even have the pleasure of my doing so.