I have yet to go on a date in New York without breaking into a mental
sweat. When
scouting for potential mates, I have learned pretentious is better than
shallow, irritatingly intelligent better than vapid. But every time I
find myself two blocks away from any appointed date destination, panic
ensues.
I literally go through the syllabi of every course I can remember from NYU and every legitimate news article I have come across in recent memory. A friend of mine once told me she discovered the best conversation starters from a semester seminar she took called 'The Darwinian Revolution.' To this day, I regret not enrolling in that class. I could be married by now.
Recently, I went on a second date at Casa Mono in Gramercy Park with a screenwriter. As we sat at the crowded bar, reviewing the tapas menu, all I could think of was the impending birth of the "Brangelina" twins.