A Bold Woman
Gabriela Garcia stared across the red checkered table cloth at her blind date—her third of the year—in disbelief. She wondered how she could have ever been paired with such a vulgar human being. Did her friends hate her this much? She knew they didn’t, but this was proof that the city was in dire need of new men.
First, there had been Patrick Weldon. He owned a successful tech start-up and was tall, dark, and handsome but they had less than nothing in common, especially when it came to what they liked to do in their free time. Him: video games, Pizza Hut, doom scrolling. Her: bookstores, Café Leon Dore, Pinterest.
Then there was Nolan Neuman. He had a body like a sculpted Greek God and apparently a cult following in the fitness world—according to an article Gabriela had found on Page Six—but an empty space where his brain should have been. (A shame there isn’t a benchpress for that.) A vapid viking, if you will. She’d been this close to dating him for a free gym membership but thought she probably wouldn’t use it much anyway.
Tonight it was David Larson, a Wall Street hot shot with combed over brown hair, a button nose, and eyes as piercing as an ice pick. Charming, in a ‘trust fund baby with a house in the Hamptons’ kind of way. He was wearing a light blue polo with pink plaid slacks and suede Brunello Cucinelli loafers. Gabriela thought his outfit looked more suited to a tacky Tampa golf tournament than an upscale trattoria in Manhattan, but who was she to say? She only owned one of the most successful vintage stores in any of the five boroughs.
As if dressed for a date in a parallel universe, she was sporting a sustainably-crafted cheetah dress with a smocked bodice, long sleeves, and a killer slit that directed attention to her naturally bronzed thigh. Knee-high leather boots and a small beaded purse completed the look. She’d been hoping to be captured by @watchingnewyork on her way to dinner, but no . . .