So some of you hoped for more of the story of my Drunken Falafel Date. Oh dear reader, there is much, much more. Let’s start at the very beginning:
I almost didn’t reply to his initial message. It was friendly but generic, void of any indication he’d read any part of my online dating profile. Call me old-fashioned, call me an Only Child Cliché, but I expect a message that’s written just for me. It takes all of 30 seconds to throw in some bullshit from my “Six Things I Can’t Live Without”. I am worth more than the same two sentences you copy/paste to all the girls.
I rolled my eyes at his message but his picture caught my eye. The image showed him standing in Times Square, sandwiched between a Cookie Monster and an Elmo, a huge grin on his face. I couldn’t help but smile. It was the perfect companion picture to one of my favorite pictures: