Jessica Traub

Date Night

As the waiter poured the deep red glass of Merlot down my white shirt, all I could think was thank god. The man sitting across from me, tall, dark, and handsome as they come, was truly the dullest creature I have ever met— and before you judge me, I had really, really tried. Not only was I struggling to carry on any form of conversation with this man, but he had also spent half of the evening staring at my chest, which was now graciously covered by a coating of red wine and six napkins (both of which, thankfully, doused on me by the panicked waiter), and the other half interrupting me with facts about the only topic he seemed interested in: industrial beef farms (I was, of course, having a steak).