The evening started off inauspiciously at the meatball shop in the L.E.S., and didn’t require the cocktail attire we’d dawned, but that’s how I asked her to dress so that’s how she came. It wasn’t until years later that I would appreciate her thirst for adventure. That night though, it was her eyes that caught me — glaring intently, yearning not for romance or pent up with desire, but a joke, hopefully a pun — something dark and witty exposing my fluency in dad jokes without the trappings of responsibility, and so one came. And another. And another. When the meal was over we grabbed a pack of American Spirits and a cab uptown. The Carlyle glittered and so did she. It was our first night together but it wouldn’t be our last. New York is still New York, but that night begs to be relived, not for what we did but what we would do next time.
21+ Be an adult. Imbibe Responsibly.