61. DESI DATE WITH REINDEER PART ONE

For the Reindeer date, I decide affirmatively NOT to wear the “date” outfit (black pants and black and white wrap top) or jeans. Both of these outfits are jinxed. I opt for brown pants with a white pinstripe, a brown and light blue printed silk sleeveless shell and my denim bolero, to soften the dressiness of my outfit. Denim, I swear is amazing. So is the miracle of adding elastane (stretch) to EVERYTHING!

I arrive at the Grand Central Station Clock Tower. This thing is NOT a tower. My mind thinks of a long spire or Big Ben. Not a lamppost with an orb shaped clock at the top. Ten minutes later I spot Reindeer. He’s in a brown suit with beige pinstripes and a blue and white checked shirt (we’re dressed in the same color scheme). He’s carrying a laptop, walking around and unsuccessfully looking for me

Hhhmm. He DOES NOT look like his photos. His hair recedes further than his photos imply. His hair is thinner and greyer along the sideburns and neckline. Clearly his photos are outdated. And he looks 45 not 39. I hope he didn’t lie about his age! Then turns around and I see bald spot. But I decide that I’m already down here and might as well meet him.


I walk over to him and say, “Reindeer?” He does have a handsome face, huge smile and warm brown eyes. “Nice to meet you. There was some problem with the train.” I nod and say, “So I thumbed through my Zagat and have some choices for dinner,” I reply. Okay, the truth is, I have a selection of six restaurants: three Italian, two Asian and one Latin, for Reindeer to pick from.

Later, when I tell this to Meera, she will be annoyed and say. “What? No. You need to pick one place and tell him that is where you are going. This looks like a lot of work and he’ll think you’re more into him than you really are.”

As I am explaining the choices he stares at me, intensely, and for a really long time, nine seconds, which does not seem that long, but Americans can generally handle about four seconds of silence and this is twice as long. His look can best be described as either he thinks I am pretty, or a bird has crapped in my hair and he is wondering how to tell that to a more or less total stranger.



We decide on the Vietnamese place and I say, “While I can get into Grand Central, I can never get out. You have to lead the way to dinner.” Reindeer laughs and graciously guides the way tonight.

To be cont.