2006 [patched]: Blind Dating

Nina tilted her head. Rain beaded on her eyelashes. “You’re not going to wait the mandatory three days?”

It was a blind date set up by his college roommate, Mark. “You’ll love her, Leo. She’s into, like, weird French movies and hates small talk. Just like you.” The only identifier was a copy of Haruki Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore on the table. Her idea. “If I’m not there, hold the book. It’s a signal,” she’d typed over AIM. AIM. The very word felt like a relic. blind dating 2006

They ordered. She got a chamomile tea (un-ironic, he noted). He got a black coffee. The first five minutes were the usual landmines: What do you do? (She was a bike messenger and a part-time darkroom technician. He was a temp at a publishing house.) Where do you live? (She had a studio in Williamsburg before Williamsburg was a punchline. He had a shared walk-up in the East Village.) Nina tilted her head

“I hate small talk,” he said, quoting her own bio back to her. “You’ll love her, Leo