The object of the journalistic exercise is to make the conservative dates look foolish.
met my first date, the Guns & Ammo lover, at a downtown grill, the kind of mass-manufactured, mahogany-toned place that flogs dry-aged steaks, cigars, and 800 labels' worth of wine. Amid the high-gloss crowd, Shooter stood out like a bird who'd accidentally flown into the wrong habitat: I spotted him perched awkwardly on a stool, clad in an oversized white polo with his company's logo on the breast. As I approached, he saw my cowboy boots and proudly tugged up his pants cuffs to reveal big black stompers of his own. We matched!
And no disclaimers from the date can change that.
Headed back home after work, changed from "casual Friday" work boots to Tony Llama Newbuck boots (a sort-of tan suede). Glanced at suits in closet and thought of changing into one of the custom suits I usually wear to work, like I am pictured wearing in profile, along with custom shirt (same tailor) and was about to debate cufflinks, then thought better: 22-year-old-writer--profile-without-a-picture. Plus, I did not think I would be able to contact her early enough before she left to assure she got the change. She is a writer, not a bounty hunter. If we have a second date I will try to make it on a non-casual day. Did switch to the 1963 Bulova Accutron Astronaut watch.