Back from the date!
No black dress, but something just as good: tight faded blue jeans, black boots, and a sexy fitted white blouse with some frills down the front. Cleavage-tickling necklace. I complimented her on the blouse and asked if it was an Anne Fontaine (I go past the Fontaine store all the time and have been in many times. Pricey.)
"It is," she said, surprised. Points for Gravy! "How did you know?"
"I know everything that happens in New York. It's my job. And my burden."
So far, so good. Over dinner I told her that I had studied graphology for a year and used to do it as a sideline for money. I pulled out a pen and paper and asked her to write in script a one-paragraph story about something fun that happened in her childhood, and I'd tell her about herself based on the structure of the writing.
She wrote about teaching her dogs to swim, and then to use a pool slide and diving board. I took the paragraph and did a detailed analysis: "See how your double Ls are far apart, but open? That means you..." When I was done I apologized for being a little rusty at it and asked how I did.
"Very good! You know me well. Maybe 80% accurate?" I then told her that I knew nothing about graphology (although I used to do palmistry for fun), but was giving her things that could apply to anyone, combined with what I already knew about her and using clues she was giving me while talking. She suggested that I actually could do that for money. This led to a discussion about skepticism, the paranormal, etc.
The purpose of the graphology ruse was to get a sample of her writing, of course. It wasn't good, but it wasn't as bad as on the internet. The syntax was clipped and the prose lifeless, like her email. She misspelled a couple of words. "No semicolons?" I said. She said she finds them more useful than commas for the way she thinks. So, her odd style can't be attributed to lazy textese. But I couldn't tell if there was a problem like dyslexia either.
I confessed that I'd already seen "Man on Wire" but said I hadn't so I could ask her out. She thought that was cute. We saw Woody Allen's "Vicky Christina Barcelona" instead, which I recommend.
But here's the thing: she was dull. Really dull. A combination of not terribly smart and not terribly interesting. It was work trying to keep things entertaining. We parted with a "talk to you soon," but I won't be asking for another date. Did I mention how hot she was? *Bangs forehead against desk*
Thanks for all your input...;...interesting stuff!