That Friday I met one of my best girlfriends for lunch at Morandi followed by a stroll through Soho to pick out the perfect dress for my perfect first date with my dually proclaimed “perfect fit.” My go to for a first date involving dinner is something form fitting- suggestive enough, but leaving plenty to the imagination. It’s like dating- don’t give it all up at once. I already had an idea in my head and found something that fit the bill fairly quickly. When I came out of the dressing room to gain approval from my friend and anyone else I could ask, the sales associate informed me that the dress could be spun around so the opening was in front. Sold. I probably wouldn’t expose my midriff during a first date (shocking, coming from the queen of crop tops), but how much fun would it be to go to the bathroom and return with the dress reversed? Answer: Very.
It had been quite some time since I’d actually cared enough to purchase something new for a dude. Typically on a first date, I’ll strategically wear red lipstick to send the surefire signal that there is absolutely no shot in hell that his tongue will ever know what my molars feel like. Ever. But in this instance, he was not only worth a new dress, but also new shoes. In my mind, it was bashert. And sure this sounds like it’s all about to end happily ever after, but what fun would that be and I’m sorry, have we met?
A couple of hours before I was to meet my future man friend for dinner at Narcissa, my illness or antibiotics sent me into a tailspin and I knew that I was certainly in no shape to be sitting at dinner spreading germs to my fellow diners. Besides, this also meant I should not be kissing anyone but Smitty and that was going to be far too difficult. As to not be selfish, I called to cancel. I was almost shocked at how understanding he was, but we spent the rest of the evening texting about our would be date. On Saturday, he called to check on the sickling. We talked for a while and I assured him we would see each other soon enough.
Then a funny thing happened… I didn’t hear from him again. Turns out, New York dating is a lot like New York real estate. You wait too long to put in an offer and someone else will scoop it up. I haven’t decided whether I’m on or off the market again, but I suppose I’ll entertain any interesting offers.