Dating match up games
We weren’t quite finishing each other’s sentences, but I mirrored his enthusiasm and found myself thinking faster and grinning more. I can serve it with a few twists of orange peel to bring out the citrus notes.” What a shockingly different experience from my ill-fated date with Mr Jim1971, who wanted to be the know-it-all expert on food and wine during our insanely expensive meal.
I’d moved in closer to him and hadn’t once thought about my laptop or email rating system. The waiter came by and asked if Jay wanted to order a drink. He wasn’t interested in taking recommendations or even in asking my opinion.
Dozens of press-pass badges were hanging on his cubicle. I never stayed more than an hour and always made at least two trips to the bathroom.
In the next photo, he was out at an event, dressed in a black fitted shirt and dark slacks. Mench Tastic: I don’t have a lot of time to chat now. What do you think about getting drinks sometime this weekend? They must have suspected me of something, though they weren’t quite sure of what. A prostitute for men with a haggard-office-lady fetish? Just as I was taking a sip from my glass, I saw Mench Tastic walk through the door.
We spent the next two hours tasting every one of the 38 teas he had in his shop. I knew what it was like to get those calls and to be available at all hours.
He explained that he sold 38 teas because eight was a lucky number in Chinese, and the three in front of it meant “triple prosperity.” And then Jay’s phone rang. Cupping his hand over the receiver, he whispered, “I’m really sorry. Journalists, especially those on a daily desk, were never really off the clock.
In one picture, he was wearing white slacks (linen maybe? He looked serene and content, standing with a very tan, old sailor behind the wheel of a large yacht. I threw my gigantic bag, packed with my laptop and dating data, next to me as I sat down and sunk into the cushion.
Longshots offered an extensive menu with pages of specialty drinks and, in the back, several more pages of coffee roasts and flavors. He’d just filed his story, and he wanted to be alert in case the copy desk called with questions. I loved how, in contrast, Jay was so genuinely, naturally inquisitive.
“I’m looking for something that has a rich flavor, maybe even nutty or chocolaty,” he said. At least at Longshots, he wasn’t making assumptions.
He was 33, was a nonsmoker, and said explicitly that he wanted kids. We finally wrapped up our discussion, but without enough time to head home first, I went straight to Longshots and decided to wait at the bar for him.
He was also a journalist covering the city hall beat for one of the local newspapers. I ordered a club soda with a twist of lime, which looked like my usual first-date drink but contained none of the potentially dangerous alcohol.Even so, we shared enough similarities in our personal and professional lives that it felt as if, even as strangers, we’d been a part of each other’s social circles for many years. It could take just one strong drink for accidentally drunk and unwittingly aggressive Amy to rear her ugly head, and the bartenders at Longshots were too unpredictable to entrust with this very important first meeting.