I decide that if I am going to be going on a date with my fantasy girl, I need to make it a good one. As a woman who makes a living testing athletic gear for a living (and loving it), I decide to do something a little different. I tell her to dress comfortably, and I have my driver take me to her apartment on the outskirts of the city. Being the gentleman I am, I, of course, bought her a few flowers. Roses.

I leave my driver waiting outside and head up to her second-floor apartment. I knock, and she answers wearing a pair of jean and a nice looking blue shirt. I myself am dressed similar in a pair of jeans and a gray V-neck. She smiles when she sees the mall bouquet of roses. “Well, aren’t you adorable?” she teases.

“Of course,” I say, and she takes the flowers.

“Hold on. I want to put these on water.” She says and hurries back into her apartment before meeting me at the door. She locks the door behind her, and I took her arm in mine.

“Are you ready for the most fabulous first date of your life?” I ask.

“You’re cocky, you know that?” she laughs. “And I hope it will be better than my last first date. The guy forgot his wallet, and I wound up paying for his lunch.”

“Very cute,” I say with an eye roll. “That was not a date. And believe me, I assure you that I will make up for that sandwich you got for me.”

“I hope so,” she jokes, “It was kind of expensive for a coffee house sandwich.”

We get into the back of my car, and my driver takes us straight to a local airstrip where my private jet is awaiting us. I can tell she is somewhat excited and trying to play it off as if it is nothing. “So… where are we going?” she asks as we are boarding up.

I laugh. “What? And ruin the surprise?”

We sit in the cabin, and my personal stewardess brings us two glasses of Champaign and some chocolate covered fruit to snack on. It’s going to be a long flight. Sylvia and I start talking, and I find her exceptionally easy to talk to. She is not just a pretty face. I love the fact that she is really into her job. She talks about some of the amazing things she’s done before and some of the new equipment that’s not even out yet that she has worked with. She tells me she has gotten flown out to beaches before by companies just to test beach gear like the top of the line surfboards. “I wish I had your job,” I say.

“I wish I had yours.” She laughs, “Come on, you make being a playboy billionaire sound like a bad thing.”

“It has its perks, I’ll admit, but it's way more trouble than it’s worth.” I say, “It has caused more family drama than you could imagine.”

“Now that’s something I can relate to.” Sylvia grumbles, “I have a big sister who thinks she is a big shot. I love her and all, but damn! If I have to hear her talk about herself at our family dinner one more time, I might punch her.”

“So you’re on the other end of it all, I see,” I say under my breath.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“My older brother is my factory manager,” I say.

“Older brother?” she asks, “Oh, no, that’s way worse than what I deal with. My sister would lose her mind if her baby sister was better off than her.”

“That bad?” I ask.

“Hell yeah!” Sylvia laughs and takes a bite of chocolate-covered strawberry, “Come on Marty, you’re telling me you don’t know how the whole lineup is supposed to go? Oldest sibling is the boss. They’re the ones who get all the hell from the parents, so they wind up being the successful ones. Look after your little sister. Why is your little sister this –why doesn’t your little sister that –as if it’s their fault their younger sibling is a screw-up. And you’re telling me your brother probably went through the same thing his entire childhood and young adult life, and he wound up working for you?”

“Well if you put it that way…” I frown; I did not really expect this topic to come up on our date. “I really screwed up with him this week,” I say, “I know he’s been having money trouble, so I gave him a raise.”

“Ooh…” she cringes.

“How come everyone knows that would be a bad idea except for me?” I question aloud.

“You’re kind of clueless, aren’t you?” Sylvia asks, “I mean seriously, how did that even happen? You and your brother’s situation, I mean.”

“It’s kind of complicated, but to explain it simply, my dad left me pretty much everything when he passed away, and my brother got the short end of the stick,” I say.

She raises a brow, “Why? That seems kind of cold.”

“We didn’t know until after he died, but Eddie was not really his son.” I say, “So he didn’t leave him much. He left me pretty much everything –the company included.”

“Wait, but he had no idea he wasn’t your father’s son? So your father raised him?” Sylvia sounds almost angry. Good to know that that is a normal reaction to have.

“Pretty much.” I say, “I mean; he always gave Eddie a hard time. Like you said, that’s what happens when you’re the older sibling. That’s all we thought it was. Honestly, I was sure that Eddie was going to inherit the company. Eddie knew way more about the company than me –he still does. He thought he was going to walk away as the CEO of Shattered Supplements, but all he got was a summer house that floods every winter, a small sum of cash, and a note telling him he was the result of an affair and basically to go fuck himself.”

“That’s so harsh!” Sylvia rolls her eyes, “Poor guy.”

“Yeah, and it turns out his biological father was a horny bastard. He has all these other half-siblings, each with a different mother, that he is just now finding out about, and they’re a bunch of damn leeches guilt-tripping him into giving them money all the time.” I frown when I think about it, and it really pisses me off, “I mean, who do they think they are? They barely even know him. The way they ask him for money all the time really makes me so pissed. That’s why he’s so broke right now. They can take care of themselves; they’re not some charity case.”

“So… your brother basically feels guilty that he was the lucky sperm who wound up latching onto the egg of a rich broad while the rest of them are struggling to make ends meet… so he gives out money to them… then you make him realize he’s not all that rich at all by making him into a charity case with the raise just like he does with his other siblings?” she questions, “So does that pretty much hit the nail on the head?”

“Damn,” I say, realizing she is right.

We push the conversation aside; she’s given me a bit to think about. Soon we are landing, and she laughs when she realizes we are in Paris. “What’s this?” she asks, “Do you take all your girlfriends to Paris? I bet this gets you laid every time.”

“Not exactly.” I say, “Don’t you realize what is taking place in Paris today?”

She pauses, and then her eyes light up. “The Tour de France? Are you serious? We’re coming to see the Tour de France?” The athlete in her is about to explode.

“Oh, no.” I say, “We’re going to bike it.”

“What?” she questions, “We don’t… I don’t… we don’t have a team, and we haven’t trained…”

“Relax.” I say, “We’re not going in the actual race. I called in favor. You and I will be heading out a few hours before the race begins. They were not going to let me anywhere near the tracks during race time.”

You better believe that she is beyond thrilled. What athlete doesn’t dream of biking the Tour de France? Before we head out, we change into some workout attire. It’s going to be a hell of a ride. The bikes I ordered are waiting for us as volunteers are still setting up for the race. “You ready?” I ask as we make our way towards the starting gate. She is more than ready. The two of us speed through the race, exhausted incredibly early on. We wind up halfway through the track before having to stop for half an hour to stretch and laugh about not being quite up to par with our biking abilities. We’re off again, and soon we complete the track just as the actual racers are heading towards the lineup. We’re exhausted, but we hang out to watch the race anyways.

By the end of the day, we’re both incredibly tired, but that does not stop us from renting a hotel room for a little after-race party of our own. She does not have sex with me, of course. She’s clearly classier than I had anticipated. No sex on a first date despite how amazing it was sort of rule. I can respect that, but now she’s made it a challenge. We wind up collapsing in bed together, and she makes me cuddle. I don’t mind. She is my fantasy girl, after all.