It was pouring rain as I hurriedly made my way down East Seventh street en route to a first date. I wasn’t particularly nervous but the humidity was making me self-conscious about my progressively frizzing hair and I pulled at the skirt of my black dress wondering if my hot pink tights were too bold a choice. Was he going to think I was a hipster? ‘Cuz I am definitely not a hipster. But if I’m not a hipster, why am I wearing hot pink tights? What am I? Some kind of poser? Would he know that? Would he care? THIS IS WHY DATING SUCKS.

The pub was practically empty when I arrived which I noted as I awkwardly paused in the doorway, scanning the room for a tall man with dark hair. I quickly headed for a bar stool and sat down, taking off my coat and hooking the heels of my boots on the worn brass foot rail.

“Beer?” asked the bartender, a slight man of ambiguous sexuality.

“Um. Something light?”

He suggested some kind of lager, Belgian or Austrian or Tansanian, what do I know, I definitely don’t know beer. As he eased the amber liquid out of the spout and into a glass the size of my calf, my eyes darted around the room, wondering where he was. I pressed a button on my phone and the screen lit up. 6:07.

LATE! I bet he’s not coming. WAY TO BE. Way to leave me alone on a Wednesday night at 6:00, drinking by myself at a place called BURP CASTLE, of all things, dear God in heaven THIS IS WHY I CANNOT DATE. I’m in a PUB called BURP CASTLE in the EAST VILLAGE which is way too cool for me ANYWAY and I AM GOING TO FREAK OUT NOW. I could feel my blood pressure rising.

My blackberry danced on the bar as it vibrated and lit up with his number.

“Hey!”

“Hey! Where are you?”

“I’m here! I’m inside!”

“Oh, no way! I’ve been waiting for you outside! I’ll be right in!”

Outside? He was waiting outside in the rain for me? And I had waltzed right in without waiting and ordered myself a beer? My dating etiquette SUCKS. I don’t know how to do this. Damnit.

And there he was, swooping his cheek next to mine, arm around my shoulder, as we gracefully performed the very first number of the Blind Date Ballet. And then it was HEY and it was NICE TO MEET YOU and it was a comment about the rain and it was well, what’s up!?!?!?

“Oh, nothing,” I joked, pointing to my glass of beer. “I’ve gotten started without you. I’m already pretty wasted, I hope that’s okay.”

When he laughed, I caught a glimpse of gleaming white teeth and eyes full of mischief. Hazel? Blue? No, definitely green. And oh my God, so tall.

Physical Attraction – check.
Sense of humor – check.
Tall – check.
Can form intelligible complete sentences – check.

Wow, I thought, as I surreptitiously attempted to smell his armpit. This dating thing is going to be so much easier than I thought…

“Do you want to get out of here and find a place to eat?” he asked, two beers and about an hour later.

“Absolutely!”

And that is how the first date, which I thought would last maybe an hour, ended up lasting four. That is how my lowered expectations rose, how my belly was full of beer and a veggie burger with French fries, how we touched on surface level subjects, careers and family members and city living. How he walked me in the pouring rain to the subway station and we lingered there for what seemed like forever under my pale blue umbrella. How we finally said goodbye and he quickly kissed me somewhere on my cheek and bolted for the train. And how I was really really sorry to see him go.

To Be Continued…