Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Anatomy of a great date.

I had two terrible days. And then I went on a great date, and had such a good time, and that felt so gooooood.

I'm not a great dater. Yet. I am an attractive, single young woman in Manhattan, but I'm also right in the thick of really learning how to be that. Successfully. I'm used to seeing myself as an unattractive, awkward, quiet, undesirable. And it takes some doing to completely recalibrate. Until you get to that point where you don't have the knee-jerk reactions, the oblivious non-flirty responses to flirtation, the automatic eye-diversion. So, as I think I've said, I'm right in the middle of that learning curve, and that is A-OK.

So I've been dating a bit lately. Quite regularly. And I've experienced the unpleasant, the humorous, the awkward, the embarrassing, the mediocre, and occasionally the great. (One guy's idea of a compliment: to tell me how adorable my 'chubby cheeks' are. I graciously chalked that one up to a cultural/language barrier.)

So. Friday. Post-crisis. I take a shower, wash my eyes with contact solution, put on a pretty dress, and head up-town to the Met. I don't go to the Met nearly enough, so it's just a treat to be there on a summer evening. Add to the equation one of the most stunning exhibitions I've ever seen: Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty. Theatrical, gorgeous, emotional. Whoever created the actual exhibition itself deserves an award, I've never seen anything like it. You should be bummed if you never get to see it, but at least click over to the website and take a look around.

The suitor: I knew immediately that even if we didn't end up being compatible, I was, at the very least, going to have an interesting time.

He moved a little quicker than I would have through the rooms, but it was ok, I knew I'd go back. And the museum was closing in an hour, after all. Someone who wants to go to the Alexander McQueen exhibit on a first date in the first place is already a winner anyway.

Following, after sitting on the front steps for a few minutes chatting, we decided to get out of the Upper East Side and head to my stomping grounds, and a favorite Italian place of his, conveniently around the corner from my apartment. Perfect, Caffe Dante had been on my list of renowned coffee houses in the area I needed to try. He ordered a bunch of scrumptious favorites (tiramisu, tartuffe - yes, we started with dessert- eggplant & zucchini panini, cappuccino with a shot of Baileys, and strawberry gelato with a shot of vodka), and we split them all. Deeelicious.

Good conversation.

He wanted to see a favorite DJ in the East Village at Home Sweet Home, one that would apparently call for dancing. So, since we were right by my apartment, and my dress wasn't an ideal one for dancing, I suggested I pop upstairs to change (this date even called for a costume change...) Good move, because the DJ, Jonathan Toubin, plays '60's soul music, not a bad song in the mix, and that is absolutely my favorite music to bust a move to. We danced, and danced, and danced, and this man knew how to lead, my friends. I had such a blast.

I got home at 2 or 3 in the morning, curled up in bed for a few hours, before I woke up to a full day of work. But I didn't mind a bit.

Again, I don't know how compatible this suitor and I will end up being, it's only been one date, after all, but I had such a good time, after such a shitty couple of days-- it just felt so good to talk, laugh, eat, and dance with such gusto.

And now you all know the recipe to win my heart: art + food + dancing.



Severin said...

Now I know why my dates were so lackluster. I always forgot the shot of vodka in my gelato and we skipped the cappuccino entirely. Oh, and replace panini with hamburger, art show with movie, and dancing with making out in my car.

Glad you had a great date.