A few weeks ago my bestie and I went to a day party that included bottomless champagne for $20. The boozy brunch/day party as it is known is one of the greatest things the city of New York has to offer once the weather become less than tragic. After drinking a ridiculous amount of cheap champagne we were naturally starving and went for sushi where we met up with an old work associate of mine who we will call Christian. Apparently at the end of this booze-filled sushi outing I agreed to be set up with Christian’s friend. Imagine my surprise when Monday came and he text me saying that his friend wanted to take me out that weekend. Further imagine my disdain when Christian sent a very unflattering picture of this guy. However, following the advice of my friends I agreed to go on this blind date. I didn’t even know people went on blind dates in real life, but here I was in a typical 90’s sitcom plot.
I was really looking forward to that Saturday because my bestie’s fiancé was getting her a section at another day party in the Lower East Side being held at the DL. I know it’s a very unfortunate name for a venue but it is a great time. I thought to myself all I have to do is get through the date and then the rest of the day will be great. I always have a great time partying with my bestie and her fiancé. They’re like my own personal Jay and Bey because they’re doing much better at adult life than I.
So Saturday came and I told the guy to meet me at Coffee Shop. That is the actual name of one of my favorite restaurants in Union Square. It is written out on a huge neon sign right in the middle of Union Square, but guess where the guy went anyway. He went to a Starbucks. After texting back and forth trying to explain to him that I wasn’t saying “a coffee shop” but that, that is the name of the place, we finally met up. He came sauntering across the street looking like he just rolled out of the bed from an intense hangover. Shirt wrinkled, hair and beard unkempt, bad posture, pale, and all around unappealing he smiled a gap toothed smile as he greeted me.
I may be a tad shallow, but I’m not a monster so I went ahead with the date anyway. We sat down as the live band played loudly and shared bland pleasantries. The only way that I can explain the conversation is to equate it to the type of small talk you would have with a stranger at a bar after you’ve both had one too many drinks. The really weird thing is that I kept randomly catching him staring at me. To add even more awkwardness to this date, black families kept looking at me with glaring eyes judging me for having brunch with a white man. I looked at them with an expression that said “no it’s not what you think. This isn’t the kind of guy I would switch teams for.” I ordered a drink and then learned that he doesn’t drink. The waitress asked if we would be ordering food and I almost yelled no before she completed the question. He then proposed that we go somewhere more quiet and I wondered why in the world he would want to do that. I told him that I had to make my way back to Brooklyn to get ready for a friend’s party so we could just walk around for a bit. I thought I was home free until I realized he had to ride the train with me too, where he stared at me the whole time. “You look like you’re in really deep thought. What are you thinking about?” he asked. “Oh I’m just trying to remember some Drake lyrics I heard earlier,” I replied. I cannot explain to you the relief I felt when he got off at the second stop and it was finally over.
I put in my earphones and blasted some PND to relax me, and hoped that the second part of my day would be much better.