I have yet to go on a date in New York without breaking into a mental sweat. When scouting for potential mates, I have learned pretentious is better than shallow, irritatingly intelligent better than vapid. But every time I find myself two blocks away from any appointed date destination, panic ensues. I literally go through the syllabi of every course I can remember from NYU and every legitimate news article I have come across in recent memory. A friend of mine once told me she discovered the best conversation starters from a semester seminar she took called 'The Darwinian Revolution.' To this day, I regret not enrolling in that class. I could be married by now.
Recently, I went on a second date at Casa Mono in Gramercy Park with a screenwriter. As we sat at the crowded bar, reviewing the tapas menu, all I could think of was the impending birth of the "Brangelina" twins.
We finally got up on the roof at Eataly for a German-Italian- American-style lunch at