I love a man with a plan.

This bodes extremely well for tonight’s date (a filmmaker/producer), who just unveiled his three-point-plan for a fun Friday night in the West Village: we’ll be pre-gaming with al-fresco drinks, then off to a Brando doc at the Film Forum, followed by dinner.

If he looks even remotely like a young Brando, I’m in trouble.

This is definitely a book/cover situation though, because while I chose my first date as much for his kind eyes as for his dislike of parades (ditto), I can honestly say that had it not been for this gent’s well-chosen words, I likely would’ve swiped left; not because he’s bad-looking, but because, at least according to his pics, he looks like a *gasp* “Bro”.

If you’re not familiar with the term “Bro”, let me (and Urban Dictionary) help you: “Obnoxious partying males who are often seen at college parties. When they aren’t making an ass of themselves they usually just stand around holding a red plastic cup waiting for something exciting to happen so they can scream something that demonstrates how much they enjoy partying. Nearly everyone in a fraternity is a bro but there are also many bros who are not in a fraternity. They often wear a rugby shirt and a baseball cap. It is not uncommon for them to have spiked hair with frosted tips.

Bros actually chose this name for themselves as they often refer to each other as ‘bro’ even though they are not related.”

Okay, so I didn’t see any frosted tips (or rugbies), and we’re both at least 15 years out of college (he went to a great one, so, bonus points). Frankly, I have nothing against Bros in the abstract…I just generally avoid them like the plague. Why? Well, likely because I tend to avoid anywhere – and anyone – whose standard of beauty doesn’t include me…and because my insecure inner 16-year-old theater geek/choir nerd/captain of the speech team (who always had more height and curves than the high school boys knew how to process) is still convinced that people play to type. To the best of my recollection, the jocks generally went for the cheerleaders – and they almost always graduated into Bros and sorority girls.

Suffice to say, I was never a cheerleader. And one of Sarah Lawrence’s selling points was the absence of a Greek system.

So, why did I swipe right?

A simple, yet effective series of adjectives that reflected my own values and interests…and encouraged to me overlook my own inherent biases. A weeks’ worth of exchanges quickly confirmed that this may not be your average bro, so…I’m going into tonight not only with an open mind, but hoping to be wholly proven wrong. Hopefully, I can also stop projecting my insecurities onto an unsuspecting public. Wish me luck.

And if you don’t mind, I’d also love some suggestions from my NYC crew about locations to suggest for a meet-up over drinks/coffees/lunch tomorrow afternoon, this time with a (hopefully) great Dane who’s new to the city. I’m thinking downtown, west or east, maybe outdoors… Go.

About the author

Who me? I'm just your average Grammy-nominated goddess next door. May I borrow a cup of sugar? But seriously: I'm a musician, model, writer, all-around creative and devoted auntie. Like you, I'm just out here in the universe, trying to make it happen...whatever that is.