Your charm and/or stellar good looks have convinced me that it is a good, nay, great idea to give you my number and accept your invitation for a date. This is your big chance to pull out all the stops, show me your radical first date moves and impress me.
So, when you met me at my neighborhood bar for our first date, I'm underwhelmed with your choice. No fancy restaurant? No unknown dive bar across town? No hole-in-the-wall underground cave where you need to know a secret password to get in? You must have some kind of magic card up your sleeve, Mister, to think you are going to impress me with this. If this date were any more low key, it'd be the lowest note on the piano. Honestly, that note is the sound I hear when I think about our date: a dull, unsexy, unfunny low note the exact pitch of a walrus' mating call.
Yet for some reason, I decided to give your date a shot. A snarky shot, but a shot nonetheless. And I was pleasantly surprised when I found that this date locale did not completely bum me out. As I walked into the bar (like I do on a weekly basis), I am not all a-jitter and out of my element. In fact, I am as near to my element as I have ever been on a first date. My element and me are like this: *crosses fingers*
Instead of the oh-fuck-I’m-on-a-first-date feeling I normally have, I have a cool and confident “I’m gonna own this date” feeling. Did I just pop a mint candy because I feel like I'm in a Mentos commercial, giving the thumb's up to the camera at the end of the spot. Going to a place I am used to doesn’t even bore me like I expected it to! I applaud you Mr. I’ll-Take-a-Girl-to-the-Neighborhood-Bar-and-Make-it-Work Guy. Your lack of trying to impress me has really impressed me. Well played.