blind date (lyn)

A few months ago, a friend of mine from Boston tells me that a good friend of his is moving to New York in December.  “You two should go out,” he says.  “You’ll really like him.  I know how picky you are.  Give him a chance.  He’s a great guy.”  “Sure, I say, “I’m happy to meet him.  He gives this guy my number and he never calls.

In early February my Boston friend calls and says, “David is not going to call you.  I think he’s shy.  You should call him.”  I surprise my friend and tell him I will.  Why not?  And so I do.  We speak briefly on the phone.  He sounds nice.  We set a date to have dinner together.

David calls yesterday to confirm our plans for tonight.  “You’ll recognize me.  I’ll be the short Jewish guy at the bar.” I picture someone about 5’ tall.

After last night’s big dinner, I want to be more careful with what I eat tonight.  I prepare by going to menupages.com and reviewing my options. David tells me that Lusardi’s (the restaurant we are going to) is one of his favorites. Plus, it’s right around the corner from me.  I can’t believe I’ve never been.  The menu looks great.

The duck breast sounds amazing, but so does the Branzino Mediterranea, described as fillets of mediterranean sea bass cooked in white wine with grape tomatoes, baby artichokes, pearl onions and cerignola olives. This is what I’ll order.

I wear a black pencil Wolford skirt, a white top under a slinky light blue cashmere V-neck, and boots.  I leave feeling hopeful, despite a slightly achy drippy right nostril.

I recognize him immediately.  David has a welcoming, friendly face, is dressed well, and is immediately likable.  I join him a the bar and have a Metropolitan.  I have another one at dinner so now I’m pleasantly drunk.  David is easy to talk to, a good and attentive listener, and very nice.  I like him.  We split a raw tuna with tomato appetizer and I skip the bread.  Good so far.  But then he orders a pasta dish to split (gnocchi with a meat sauce) that is big enough for a meal and spectacular.  We both order the Branzino, and then I have a couple of bites of the cheesecake he’s ordered for dessert and a cappuccino.  


We are the last ones to leave the restaurant.  I guess that answers the question, "How'd the date go?"