connecting*the*dots

So I headed into the city tonight to have a drink with woman I met on Nerve.

You never know about these things. I’ve been on a bunch of blind Nerve dates over the last year and the women i’ve met have ranged from a Bulgarian midget (uhm, sorry, make that ‘height challenged’) to a “voluptuous” sex crazed Vin Diesel fan on crack to a cool-ass Israeli designer chica (Efrat, be safe over there in the motherland, you here me?), so you never really know what you’re going to get.

Kinda like a box of chocolates.

So I met this woman tonight. To keep the innocent, well… innocent, I’ll call her Pippy until further notice. Pippy and I headed downtown to Bar 89 for a drink, but it was last call and Pippy wasn’t feeling the vibe anyway, so she pointed up the street to the bar on the corner. Sweet. Fanelli’s. My other favorite bar on Mercer. Totally different vibe.

Cool.

So we walk up Mercer, step inside and grab a seat at the bar. Before we know it, Bob becomes a part of the date. Bob the bartender, former prize fighter (he actually fought Larry Holmes in ‘73), was instantly spitting advice on women and relationships, digging into our pasts, dissing Pippy’s hometown of Chicago and laughing at my old digs in Montclair. I suddenly felt like I was on an episode of “The Fifth Wheel.”

Once I realized that Bob was just being Bob (after watching him haze a bunch of Brits at the other end of the bar) all was good. So we closed the bar, with Bob providing comic relief for us the entire time. As for the date, we got a chance to feel each other out, but since Bob commented on half of our conversation, I think we’ll need to try it again on a park bench… on the other side of town… where there are no Bobs.

Who am I trying to kid? This is New York City — there are Bobs on every corner here, and to be honest, I really wouldn’t have it any other way.