I’ve been on my share of bad dates. One date so boring the woman next to me tried to save me. Then there was the guy who took me ice skating at Rockefeller Center to tell me he was seeing someone else. Most recently, a wine snob who was so pretentious it made my eyebrows ache from so many “you can’t be serious” facial expressions.
But after last night, all those shitty dates suddenly seem just fine. Goddamn hunky dory. The bar has fallen so low, friends, it’s slipped through the cracks of a subway grate.
I feel shaken, like I witnessed a trauma. Read More