2001-11-28 - 10:48 a.m.

We went to Mary's Fish Camp to put our names on the waiting list, then ran to Abs0lutely 4th for a quick Stella until our table was ready. So we sat at the tile bar, and I mentioned in passing that it seemed crowded. We were engrossed in our conversation, when suddenly a bell, the kind you see on a shop counter, was rung loudly and repeatedly right behind him on the bar. I looked up, and looked around, and realized that we were smack in the middle of an unusually large group of Speed Daters.

For those of you who aren't familiar with this, Speed Dating is a dating service that promises efficiency above all else. Men and women sit in pairs, talking, for seven minutes. At the end of that time, the bell rings, and everyone switches, so that by the end of the night you've met everyone in the bar. And talked. For seven minutes. This disturbs me, for some reason. I had to physically refrain from open-mouthed gaping.

I am both fascinated and repelled (Drew, see a pattern here?) by this, and I suggested that we get ourselves some name tags and try to get in on it. I mean, what do you talk about under the time pressure of seven minutes? Talk about nerve-wracking. Anyway, Drew, being a much better person than I, very politely pointed out that that would be false advertising, and really not right, and of course that's true. So it remains a mystery to me.

We then went to Mary's Fish Camp to claim our table (or bar stools, as it were). Drew further endeared himself to me by liking the fish painting I've been coveting, and his lobster roll. The time flew by, and we talked about a million things, many of them general, but there was no small talk, if you know what I mean.

We walked to the corner of 10th and Greenwich, and I pointed out my building and my favorite Italian restaurant. Then I left him on the corner, and we talked about the possibility of a NY journaller drink night. And I hugged him goodbye, and he went on to Union Square.

I can't tell you what a great time I had, I liked him so much. Over the course of the evening, I found myself saying things like "I'm insecure about.." or "I felt stupid.."(or insert any embarassing emotion here) - which is fairly rare for me. But the thing is that you already know, depending on the style of their journal, so much about them, even their insecurities. We expend so much mental and emotional energy hiding our weakness, covering our flaws and our scars.

When you think about it, it's a pretty amazing concept. You meet a stranger, and you already know what they like and what they do, what they're afraid of. And so you've already established a sort of intimacy, in a very non-threatening way.

And meeting him made me realize that. I felt so open, my guard down - and I had a fabulous time. Using my energy to connect and learn about someone I already admire, instead of worrying about saying the wrong thing. It's pretty amazing, that.

And now I'm sad. He was adorable and fun and we had great conversation, and similar views. And now he's leaving NY, and I'm sad about it, because we would be friends.

I wish he was moving to my neighborhood, instead of back to his own.

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