A cute wine bar on Broome Street

So tonight is date night.  I actually didn't know I definitively had a date till about a half hour ago when we solidified our plans via - what else - text message!  Using a phone requires time, energy, and old fashioned communication skills.  People don't really combine these three traits all that much anymore.  Fielding a date amongst the city types requires careful planning and patience. If MacGuyver were on the air today, ther would be an episode where he has to go to work, travel home to change, AND meet someone for a mojito...ALL CROSSTOWN!  The complexities of this are enormous. They must finagle their work schedule, (100 percent of their jobs would collapse like AIG if not for their presence on that particular day), maneuver around the island of Manhattan as if it were the board game Mouse Trap, and still make it home in time to catch an hour of Grey's.  This requires the use of text messages and e-mails, 12 taxi cabs, and some sort of Blackberry device.  I've also found out that if you live on the lower east side, you've seen the upper east side about the same number of times as you've seen Cheboygan Illinois, so don't think about suggesting a place to eat that is greater than 3 blocks from their residence.  These are facts, I kid you not.

In any case we are meeting at 7:30 at "a cute wine bar on Broome Street."  Since I still have the Philly girl on my mind I have no expectations and little excitement for this.  That is always a good way to go into a date.  I haven't even cut my hair in three months.  Some guys do this.  After certain moments in life they don't shave or bathe.  Since I have a desk job and bills, I am forced to do some minimal grooming, but the hair is growing like a Chia Pet on steroids.  For those of you who do not know me, I kind of look like this guy, multiplied by this guy, with a dash of this guy.

Although my mental state can be more properly likened to this guy.

Wish me luck with Peaches tonight!