Looking back on my past two years as a single person fitfully dating in New Hampshire, I don’t actually remember most of the first dates I’ve been on. I remember the second and third dates, in which conversation flows normally and you both feel comfortable enough to really learn about each other.
But on first dates, I enter a kind of fugue state, propelled by self-awareness and nervous drinking. I know roughly what was said and how much I should be embarrassed by it, but not much more than that.
In the interest of getting to the bottom of what actually goes on during one of these, I took a microphone with me on a first date. And yes, the other person agreed to this in advance. For better or worse, this is what came of it.
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