"So...I guess the real question is: how do YOU feel about this, John?" Erin asked.
John was stuck as to his response. He didn't know whether to run screaming, act normal, or make a move--she was flirting so desperately she probably was starved for sex and he figured it'd be easy--but at heart he wasn't the kind of guy to take advantage of people. Which really only left him with options one and two, run screaming or stick around and see what happened. She was half fish...
Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch in his head, John realized a few things. A) Erin was the only available girl he'd met in five years that wasn't a sociopathic hellspawn; B) She was cute, even with a fish-tail growing out of her hips, and the only reason he was freaking out was because of how out-of-the-ordinary it was; and most importantly C) If she wasn't bothered, he wasn't going to let himself be either.
John exhaled. "Okay by me," he told her with a nonchalant shrug.
"Okay, I lied...THIS is the real kicker. Not that I can kick anymore," Erin responded. "And answer me truthfully; I promise I won't get mad. Are you only going out with me because of some mermaid fetish or anything? Everybody I've dated since I got this way was only interested in me for the tail--pardon the pun."
"Nope," John told her. "I'm interested in you because you're smart, interesting, funny, cute--and the fact that you're not in the least bit like any of my exes has a pretty big part to play in it, too. But I don't have a 'thing' for mermaids, don't worry about that. As long as you're comfortable with yourself, I'm fine with however you look." And he meant it.
Erin lit up like Las Vegas on a Saturday night. "Really?!" she asked, clasping her hands together. Her caudal fin flapped against John's boots.
John stifled a laugh and broke into a goofy grin. "And here up until we started talking I was absolutely convinced all the good ones were taken. I've never been happier to be proved wrong."