The Gringo’s email was to the point...sort of. He said he had a "friend" who was perfect for me and wanted to know if I’d be interested in going on a date. I reread the email, trying to decipher if he was the actual “friend” but soon shrugged off the confusion. Instead of analyzing his email, I decided to just go along with the game.
I began composing my response. “It should be charming. Tell your friend that I'm single and ready to mingle.” Short, sweet, and definitely to the point.
It didn’t take long before he wrote back and I found myself smiling at his opening line. “And you're a poet...love it when there's a rhyme.” El Gringo sure was witty. “Tell me which night works for you. I guess you can meet around east 20's. He'll be in a restaurant (Inoteca, 24th and 3rd Ave, quite nice) at the bar with a metro card in front of him. Easy enough to find. If not, you have a whole other set of problems to work out. GPS can only do so much. You can leave your microphone at home although you do look good with it…nice fashion accessory. Btw red's your color.”
I laughed, he had a great sense of humor—but The Gringo was sticking to his story. A “friend” would meet me once I set a date and time, not him. But it didn’t matter. It had been so long since I’d been wined and dined I would date El Gringo, his friend and his poppa. Besides, games can be fun when you haven’t played in a while and the Superbowl is just around the corner. Maybe I'll score a touchdown!