The weapon's inspector won't stop calling...
Mi dispiace, poverino..."Madame X" on Houston St is not an acceptable first date venue--the interior looks like a New Orleans whore house. What about "Yama" next door? If you own a floor-through on Greene and Prince you're held to a higher standard. A burger and fries at "Silver Spurs" would have been better... I could go on, but I won't.
Next!
I am a Southerner in the City, an aging debutante, a small town girl cursed with big city aspirations. My grandfather says that I’m at the cusp of feminine failure—I’m as old as a bottle of prime Tennessee whiskey (aged 25 years) and still single. I need to “get on home” and find a nice Southern boy—a doctor, maybe an insurance salesman. At this, I dig in my heels and set out to date every inappropriate man in Manhattan…
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