50 First dates
Summer is in full swing
Summer is already halfway gone. Some of us have stayed put, others traveling to places I can’t afford. Every summer is different, thematically at least. Maybe its because we are different, the world changes around us…I don’t know really.
What has always remained the same is the passion of the seasons. The sun goes down later, and it warm enough for drinks on rooftops until the early hours of the morning. The time you get, so finite that every second feels like a last.
It why a summer fling is one of the most exciting experiences as a human. It never feels like a fling, but somewhere inside you know it is. It could be flings or flings. Some overlap, others started and ended just as quickly.
This session is called 50 first dates. Our contributors give us a look into their dating experiences in ways that showcase their own creativity. Joining us for the first time is Carlos Valladeres, a person I’ve shared a love for words with for a very long time. Next is Tim Latterner who has featured his writing before, but writing in coordination with Tim is Bailey a first time contributor!
We’ll be at Gather on the Lower East Sides famed Orchard street this Wednesday at 8pm!
50 First Dates - Carlos Valladeres
I like people. I like meeting them. Chatting them up. Hearing where they’re from. It never gets old.Art’s function should be to get you more in touch with people. That’s life: imperfect, messy, dazzling people. Together, famously, we can never be defeated.
It was early August, my 27 th birthday was in a week, my days in the city were numbered, and I didn’tcare. I was to leave New York to live in Paris for a year and some change. I hadn’t begun to pack my Morningside Heights room, nor had I made a single arrangement for storing my massive book collection. I wouldn’t be gone for that long, anyway — a year of studying in Paris for my dissertation in film, and then I’d be back before my friends felt my absence. The careless state continued that late Friday night at the IFC Center. It was half past 11, and I only wanted to do one thing: hear Nicholas Cage say, on the big screen, “I’m going to steal the Declaration of Independence.”
National Treasure is a guilty pleasure to some. Not to me. It’s pure pleasure. I managed to rope in one friend — bless Mr. Braxton — and had a time and a half applauding every daft line. Why NT is Hollywood brilliance par excellence is a Tile Bar conversation for another time. Suffice it to say, the film ended, we went our separate ways into the night, and I walked to the Christopher Street 1, a local going uptown. From there, I’d transfer at 14 th Street to the 2 Express — one of the best transfers of my life.
Because when we pulled in to the 34 th Street stop, a bevy of loud, Spanish-speaking revelers boarded my train car. Six, I counted. Three girls, three guys, each paired off to the apt other. They sat directly right to me, and they could not stop praising — am I hearing this right? — the wonders of New York. In Spanish, they said that New Yorkers were so much friendlier than people in Santiago. They felt at home here already. A triple decker of clues! They were Chilean, they were not cynical, and their eyes glinted with the patina of the bedazzled.
My move into this curious friend group: “Tienes razón sobre los neoyorquinos: siempre quieren saber por qué estás aquí.”
They cheered. The leader of this gang, named Fabiano, embraced me and asked: “De donde eres?!”
“Honduras, mi hombre. Pero nací en Los Ángeles.”
His girlfriend, Clara: “We love it.”
We talked a good deal, about New York and art and film and Latin America and what they were doing in NYC (studying at Columbia) and what they did that night (went to party after party). It wasn’t until we rolled in to the 96 th Street station and we all got up that I realized the group was not 6 … but 7.
Sitting quietly at the end, listening to our conversation, sizing me up from a clean distance, finally revealing herself — was Lucia.
Lucia was Fabiano’s sister.
Lucia’s 27th birthday was August 12, two days after mine.
Lucia liked my voice, she said. I liked her smile, I said — but also her hair, her scent, her eyes.
For the two stations until we all got out at 110 th Street, for the two blocks I walked her to her apartment, and for the hour we spent outside it talking, it was just me and her. Broken off from the group, I was firing question after question at her; she, just as rapid-fire back at me, asking query after query. Curious about what the other was doing here. Would you believe it: her professor at her journalism school in Chile was Patricio Guzmán, the director of one of the greatest films of all time and a film in my top 10, The Battle of Chile: The Struggle of an Unarmed People. She gave me two Chilean films to watch. I left her — she used to live on 112 th , I on 108 th — I watched them the next day, back to back. I texted her, saying I wanted to see her at the bar on Amsterdam and 110th to talk to her about them.
From then on, the month passed us by all blurry. Time stopped following its normal mandates. At the bar, we sat on the terrace, talked films, she’d tried to buy a European painting for cheap (to no avail), and — my bare leg grazed the soft skin of her bare leg. She let it lie there. She said her ex was super into films, but ever since breaking up with him, she hadn’t seen that many. She wanted to change that. I invited her to my 27 th birthday, which I hosting in a massive Chinatown party loft where I curate film series, and she invited me to hers, which took place in a park. She was immediately introduced and embraced by all my friends, as quickly as her friends embraced me as one of their own on that subway.
My shyness, so easy to presume as nonexistent because of my exuberant Leo brashness, fumblingly announces itself when it comes to making moves towards an assignation; with Lucia, however, the fumbling was contained, and the steady incline of affection flowed down a gentle slope. It was on the way back from that legendary party — a story for another night — that the inevitable happened: we held hands, I nipped her neck, she kissed me back. When we got off at 110 th Street, where a week ago we got off, she led me back to hers.
I lay on the bed next to her, reading her out loud a few lines from a book of Frank O’Hara poems I carried around with me around that time. Before disrobing, turning the lights off, and letting the moonlight bathe our bodies, I looked next to her and saw a teddy bear. Cute, I thought.
It was only in the morning after, while she was making herself coffee, that I looked closely at this “Teddy bear” and realized this was no tribute to the Roosevelts. The “bear” had square glasses, a square face, and a bushy white mustache. It was a plush doll of Salvador Allende.
El pueblo unido — jamás será vencido.
Play by Play - Tim Latterner & Bailey Heldmar
TIM: Good evening and welcome to another first date at Balthazar Arena! We’re here for an exciting match up. Kevin’s at the table, and we’re just waiting for Alexis to make her entrance. I’m Tim Latterner, and with me as always is my colleague Bailey Heldmar. Bailey, any predictions as we wait for Alexis to get here?
BAILEY: Well, it’s not off to a great start. She’s already 15 minutes late. Kevin’s sweating this one for sure. But, it’s New York. Could be a subway delay, could be last-minute jitters. What would you be thinking if you were in his shoes right now?
TIM: I’ll tell you what I’d be thinking, “How many times is this waiter going to ask me if I’d like to order a drink before he just assumes I’ve been stood up?”
BAILEY: Oh, there she is! She’s looking a little frazzled. Let’s see if she can get it together before she gets to the table.
TIM: Kevin’s getting up for the hello hug. And what’s this? BOOM. A table bump and the water glass goes down! That’s a rough start right out of the gate here for Kevin.
BAILEY: All over Alexis’s white pants. That was a bold choice on her part, and she’s paying the price now.
TIM: That’s gonna be a flag on the play while a waiter brings over more napkins. Definitely not how either of them saw this getting started.
BAILEY: Alright, they’re all cleaned up now, and I’d say we’re even. She was 20 minutes late. He spilled the water. Plenty of time to make up for those early mistakes.
TIM: They’re laughing! We are back in this game. That means it's time for drink orders. I’m seeing a lot of pointing and asking questions. Bailey, what’s your thinking here? Should they go for a bottle or do cocktails?
BAILEY: A bottle is a commitment for a first date. The safe play here is a cocktail, but we know Kevin is a risk taker.
TIM: That’s true. Last week, we saw him order a lobster thermador when his date just got a salad. Talk about bold moves. What’s your go-to first date drink?
BAILEY: At a place like this? I’d go for a glass of wine. You?
TIM: I’m all about a cold, cold, cold gin martini, slightly dirty only—keep that breath clean. Here’s the waiter. Let’s see what our couple got.
BAILEY: It looks like he got a Stella. Classic. And she got a Cosmo—interesting pick.
TIM: Hold on, we’re seeing some movement down there. What’s happening?
BAILEY: They’re switching! The waiter must have mixed up the order. She got the beer! He got the Cosmopolitan! Unbelievable!
TIM: Another rookie mistake from Kevin’s camp tonight, folks.
BAILEY: I don’t know, Tim. She’s laughing. A close call, but SAFE!
TIM: All guys secretly wish they could order fruitier drinks—they’re delicious. Bailey, what would be going through your head if a first date ordered a Cosmopolitan?
BAILEY: I’d think it was a little odd. But, hey, I like a guy who knows what he likes.
TIM: Another visit from the waiter. This time with a dozen oysters. Very classy move by Kevin.
BAILEY: Oysters are an aphrodisiac. But, wait, Alexis is going a little heavy on the lemon juice and, by the look on Kevin’s face, he’s not a fan.
TIM: Gotta do the Lemon Ask—technical foul on Alexis’s part. Although Alexis is really tonguing that oyster out of the shell. Let’s go to the Instant Replay, brought to you by our friends at Michelob Ultra, for a closer look.
BAILEY: Who eats an oyster like that?
TIM: What Kevin wouldn’t give to be that oyster right now, Bailey.
BAILEY: You bring up a good point there. Is this a move?
TIM: It’s not one we’ve seen from her before. But it seems to be working on Kevin.
BAILEY: So do we think dinner is in the cards for these two? Or does the night end with these oysters?
TIM: It looks like they’re just going with drinks and oysters this time around.
BAILEY: What do you make of that call, Tim?
TIM: Well, could be nothing, could be Kevin not wanting to fill up on steak frites if he thinks there’s a chance for sex later.
BAILEY: Seems like Alexis is having a good time, but I don’t know if I’d put out after just drinks and oysters.
TIM: Well, you did on our first date.
BAILEY: You’ve got me there, Tim. They might not be getting dinner, but it looks like they’re getting another round!
TIM: Hold on a second, Bailey, that’s not their waiter. Side boob is not part of the Balthazar uniform.
BAILEY: Is that…Rachel?
TIM: I think it is! Ladies and gentleman, Kevin’s former situationship Rachel is here, going in for a stop-and-chat. Talk about coming out of left field!
BAILEY: That hug was just a little too long for me.
TIM: Alexis seems to be keeping her cool under pressure.
BAILEY: An ex on a first date is never a good omen. Maybe she’ll chalk it up to Mercury in retrograde and let it slide.
TIM: It’s a toss-up. She could be thinking he's a fuckboy, or seeing another hot girl interested in her date could get some of Alexis’s competitive juices flowing.
BAILEY: …so you think she’s hot?
TIM: Moving on!
BAILEY: Perfect timing. Rachel’s walking away, and here’s that second round.
TIM: Hmm, must be getting a little heated down there. Alexis is taking off her jacket.
BAILEY: This move I know. A tube top under a blazer. She’s got his attention now.
TIM: When an ex shows up, you’ve got to go on the DDefense.
BAILEY: Kevin’s reaching for something. I think I know where this is going.
TIM: Let’s see if the Toyota Zoom Cam can pick it up. Yes, it’s his pen!
BAILEY: This is Kevin’s signature move. They are both pulling out at all the stops!
TIM: The vibes are absolutely fantastic in the Balthazar Arena tonight.
BAILEY: For those of you just tuning in, Kevin has sketched the spitting-image of Alexis on a cocktail napkin! She is clearly impressed.
TIM: Let’s pull the stats: He’s had a 70% success rate with the napkin sketches. Better than most!
BAILEY: Some girls get that sketch and can’t wait to tell the story at their wedding. Other girls can’t wait to tell the police.
TIM: For all the parents watching tonight, maybe it’s a good idea after all to let your kid take art classes instead of play football.
BAILEY: And here comes that crucial moment. Match point. The check drop.
TIM: …
Bailey: …
TIM: And he’s done it! Kevin swiftly grabs the bill. Doesn’t even look at the total. Bailey, that is how it’s done.
BAILEY: Let’s not ignore Alexis’s perfect false reach for her own wallet.
TIM: All class coming from these two tonight.
BAILEY: Now the real question is…
TIM: Will we see a goodnight kiss for Kevin and Alexis?
BAILEY: They’re on their way out. I’m seeing a hand on the small of the back.
TIM: They’re stopped just outside the window. We couldn’t ask for a better angle.
BAILEY: Kevin’s apartment is east, but the subway back to Alexis’s place is west. It all comes down to this moment.
TIM: Do you believe in miracles?!
BAILEY: We have a kiss! A four-second Frencher!
TIM: And they’re headed east! This date is going into overtime.
BAILEY: I hope she wore her cute underwear. Thanks for tuning in to watch with us.
TIM: Join us next week to see if Kevin can score them a table at Torrisi.
BAILEY: From Balthazar Arena, I’m Bailey Heldmar.
TIM: I’m Tim Latterner.
BAILEY: And we’re so fucking grateful we don’t have to go on first dates anymore.