I haven't talked about any freaky New York dates lately. There just haven't been any recent disasters, (thank GOD) - so in their absence, I'm going back into the vault. They can only be about people I'm POSITIVE won't read this blog (OBV) ...
The-Financial-Consultant-who-lives-alone-on-the-UES-forevvvvvvvvvvver: I now know why. This guy was nice enough, but not very considerate. We met after work and since he knew I was fresh meat in the city, he took me to Central Park. (even though I told him I'd already been) I was wearing heels. We were walking, extensively, through the park, and I was in heels. Does this paint a picture for you? The original plan was to go to The Boathouse for dinner. When we finally got down there (blisters already), we realized it was closed for a wedding rehearsal. (Big surprise - it's THE BOATHOUSE, YOU IDIOT!) Oh you didn't bother to call and check? Reservation maybe? Riiiiiiight. So we hike back up to a restaurant called Park Avenue Summer. It changes according to the season. (the menu, entire restaurant decor, etc) Okay wait, rewind. I forgot that he was dragging out the helatious evening as much as feasibly possible. First we stopped in some hotel bar (it was cute, but I don't even remember the name because I was in so much pain from my shoes) and munched on nuts, kalmata olives and vodka tonics. Okay fast forward - finally at the restaurant. I'm pretty much OVER trying to be charming and charismatic. And since I'm already in a foul mood, I also feel the need to order things off the menu that I'm sure I won't like. For example, I ordered soft shell crab as my entree. Don't ask. It was awful. I was very grateful when it was finally over and completely dodged the request for a second date a few days later. (via email, mind you)
The moral of the story is, don't wear high heels in Central Park, and if the guy sucks, get sloshed at dinner to assure he doesn't request round 2.
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