Best. Date. Ever.

I know it has been a long time since my last post. I started this thing, and was all hyped about it, and then I had so many ideas that I got this overwhelming anxiety over what to post next because I had so many thoughts. Has that ever happened to you? So many things running through your head that you just clam up? Anyway, since so many adventures have occurred over the last two weeks and I'm still processing them to make them suitable for public consumption, today's post is from the vault. It's been sitting in the queue waiting to be posted so here goes...

Don't be jealous but I have had a couple of really spectacular first dates. This is the story of the one I can write about. The other involved a French Caribbean island and lasted five days, so I think I can't put that on here.

One of the great things about being single and not necessarily 25, is that people are always trying to set you up. That may sound annoying but it's actually quite fun. I'm always up for an adventure because at the very least, I'll make a new friend.

I sincerely believe that. Really.

So a friend of a friend, who is also sort of my friend, had this friend. Said friend lives far away in a warm foreign place but comes to NYC frequently for visits and business. He was coming to NY and my friend and her friend wanted to introduce us.

So we met and I liked him. Truly. Very very cute, an impressive athlete, tall, and a cool British accent. Now y'all know how I love the Brits. In fact I've recently taken to drinking my tea with milk! Anyway because he was so smooth, and British, let's call this one...James Bond.

On his next trip to NYC Mr. Bond and I arranged a date. It was to take place over the course of an afternoon/evening and it was my responsibility to plan a snack hour in the late afternoon between our 3pm and 7pm activities. I picked a cool tea house on the LES (Lower East Side) since he's British and all that. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

After much flirting on Bloomberg and texting, he knocked on my door for our date. He was soooo cute and eager I couldn't stand it! Just adorable. Waiting for us outside were a car with driver. If you don't live in NYC that may sound really extravagant...if you do it's simply a nice touch. New Yorkers (the Manhattan variety) hire cars with drivers all the time because most of the island doesn't even have a drivers license. So it was a nice touch to make sure we didn't have to throw elbows with the hoi polloi for a cab. Or worse, walk to the subway. It's not like there was no butler or champagne in there or anything. But...it was a Mercedes and not a Town Car. !!!!

So off the driver went driving us downtown. And don't you know he dropped us off at the heliport down there on South Street?!

Holy smokes Batman!

007 had arranged for a helicopter tour of the city for the two of us. While waiting I experienced some pretty severe hair situation anxiety because it was a damp day and I had a fresh Dominican roller set, and those don't hold up well under stress. I fretted privately that the force of the helicopter blades combined with the humidity would create some sort of tragic disaster from which I would be unable to recover. Remember when homeboy, Montgomery from Fame, got his arm chopped off by the trauma helicopter on ER? And he couldn't be a surgeon anymore even though they reattached it and they had to chop it off again and he basically died of heartache? Anyway it distracted me a bit from our conversation but eventually I eased into it and sat there just listening to his melodious voice tickle my ears with tales of a childhood in London. Or somewhere in England.

Then where was the moment of...what if we die? But I got over that.

So the tour was cool but like a bit awkward because we didn't have mics to talk to each other and we did a lot of pointing and grinning and thumbs upping. It lasted say 15-30 minutes and then we were back on the ground and my hair was safe. (sorta) But you know, I figured, he really doesn't know the difference about the hair so it was all good.

We cabbed it over to the tea place (http://www.teany.com/) where Bond ordered a beer. I thought that was hilarious. He was super nice and really awfully cute but had a tendency to ask me questions in the superlative or absolute like, "What's your one goal for this year?" or "If you could do one thing over, what would it be?" Kind of ironic because I'm the last person who thinks that way. You could ask me a question like that every day and get a different answer depending on my mood. Kind of an interview/date. But not like an audition date which is how I usually feel with a certain group of men. It certainly didn't give me that I-wanna-do-dirty-things-to-you-right-here feeling. But the lighting was soft and dim, making me look young and dewy, and he was enraptured, I'm sure. Really that's all you need for a good date - soft lighting and alcohol.

So the third leg of the date was also pretty awesome. But frankly I was getting tired. He took me to see "August: Osage County" which later won the Tony for best play. Our seats were something ridiculous, Row H Center or some fantastic up close ish like that. By that point, I put my hand on his knee. I had had a glass of chardonnay by then and was feeling bold. And impressed with the level of effort and thoughtfulness put into the endeavor. But that was as far as things got.

After the play he escorted me home. We had a chaste hug at the door and I bid him good night. Not even a kiss. Kisses are meaningful to me...if you get the kiss you get the caboodle eventually, unless you do something stupid. Really, swapping spit is quite intimate don't you think? But I digress...all that activity and I was worn out and needed to go to sleep. Poor Bond, his preparedness and generosity worked against him because I was tired from all the excitement. I think he was kinda pissed. Yeah. He was pissed. You know how I know? NO MORE HELICOPTERS. No more Tony Award winning plays. No plane tickets to see him down there where he lives in the warm place, stuffed into a bouquet of flowers. We were supposed to go to dinner a few weeks later but I guess I didn't give him enough encouragement or something because after a string of steamy texts to which I responded like a total prude, he fell off the face of the earth. You gotta put out or act super duper impressed if a guy goes all out like that. I was just trying to act like I wasn't all brand new...ya know? Like, obviously all my dates take me on helicopter rides and to hit plays then declare their passion for me via text. Oh well. He was geographically undesirable anyway.

What's the moral of the story? There is none. I just wanted to brag about the fact that somebody took me on a helicopter ride once, on our first date. Cool, huh?

Well, maybe this: even chauffeur driven Mercedes and plays and helicopters can't make your heart skip a beat. The idea of someone is nothing compared to the real thing. And that guy can take you to McDonald's. Right?