Touchy Feely

Dude it's a first date
I don't know if I like you
As a human yet

My German is worse than your English

I didn't speak German. He didn't speak English. Okay, he did, but only a little bit.

We met at a bar (couldn't hear the heavy accent over the heavy bass), danced, exchanged numbers, yada blah blah... decided to go to dinner at Spice near Union Square a few days later (recommended btw). Before the food even arrived, it became clear that plays on words and cultural references would not help me. The language of dancing was all we had.. that and maybe the language of rumandcoke.

We struggled into a conversation about working in restaurants (it helped that I could point at things) and apparently the correlation between high tipping and previously working as a waitress crosses cultures... to find out if I was a big tipper, he asked if I was ever a waitress:


German: So, zen have you been.. a urh... waiter, waitress?

Me: Yeah, but I'm not like, a Nazi about it.


What? Read that again to see how quickly I made it awkward. And offensive.
My immediate reaction was to turn red and laugh like a maniac. People stared. Including date. Two minutes later I stopped giggling. Later I realized he probably had no idea what was going on. We didn't do dinner again.

In the beginning...

Welcome to our blog.

Like a lot of people in New York, I've been on a few first dates. And a few of those few have turned into good stories. So you can expect to find retellings, advice and who knows, maybe haiku. And please feel free to comment with stories of your own, hence the phrase "our" blog.

Additional notes:
Some entries will have happened a while ago, others will be new. Time is not a factor in dating tales.
"First base" does not necessarily imply that kissing occurred on every single date. Ew.
Yes, all names will be changed. You're welcome, Pete.