Even after almost 15 years of dating, every first date begins with this exact powwow between me and my best girls.
Me: I have a date tonight.
A^2 (My best friends from college both have names that start with A. Whichever one I am talking to is A^2 and the one not on the phone is A^3. It’s even more confusing because our last names all start with S…for now.) : Nice. Who’s the guy?
Me: He’s just a guy. I’ll send you a pic so you can tell me if he’s cute. Not that I need your judgement because I have impeccable taste.
A^2: O.K. What are you wearing?
Me: I may go naked.
A^2: I like it.
Me: I’m wearing a maxi skirt, crop top, and these Calvin Klein strappy sandals that I can run in. You know just in case he’s a serial killer.
A^2: I’m familiar.
Me: I’m going for no-makeup makeup, so a nude lip, mascara, a little concealer, highlighter, and a bit of blush. I also did like my one workout for the month so I have a glow.
A^2: Hair up or down?
Me: Down. Hair pulled back is for a third date. So I don’t really remember if this guy is really cute or not. I may have been a little drunk when I met him so you know the drill. I’ll text you if he’s not cute, or if things get awkward, or if I think he’s a serial killer.
A^2: And I’ll call you and say something bad happened so you can get out of there.
Two hours later.
(Via text.) Me: He’s cute, cool, and doesn’t seem like a serial killer so have a good night.
*I had some amazing photos to go with this but then photoshop quit on me…bastard.