[B: I didn’t go to work and it might have been because I was sick and it might have been because I was hungover.
H: Haha. How was the date?]
I timed it perfectly, so when I got there, he was sitting at the bar, facing the door.
“You look lovely,” he told me.
That immediately became my compliment of choice.
[B: Really good. He was cute and really nice and we talked about things like puppies and we had drinks for over 3 hours.]
Somewhere near the end of my second glass of wine, he put his hand on mine. He narrowed his eyes, and said, “You’re cute.” I hate being called cute, but he says it and I don’t mind.
[B: And he kissed me, but I only let him kiss me a little.]
It was a good kiss. I wanted more, but after a few seconds, I turned my head and gave him my cheek.
[B: And then he walked me to my subway, and he let me wear his jacket.
H: Wow. Very cute. What does he do? Let me guess-- finance?
B: Hedgefund. He went to business school in ----. . . . I never thought I’d know so much about the quality of MBA programs, but I sort of do now.
H: How old is he?
B: 30, I think.
H: Good age. And he likes puppies.
B: Oh! And he has a plant!
H: Like, is it still alive?
B: For two years.
H: Shut up.
B: I know! Isn’t that cute?]
He tells me I have amazing eyes. He’s backlit, and it’s hard to see his face. I wish it wasn’t a work night.
[B: It’s not like we are serious after 3 hours.
H: Of course you are. You are practically engaged.
B: I have to meet his plant first.]