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I was intrigued enough to click through and read the rest of his profile. Mench Tastic would likely order a drink once he got here, and since I actually liked him I didn’t want to get accidentally drunk at the very beginning of the date.

In his About Me section, Mench Tastic wrote, “I’m a journalist, which sometimes means long hours at work but always means I have fantastic stories to tell.” Looking at his profile, I thought that I might know his byline. I rifled through the piles of paper on my own desk looking for my mobile phone. Since it could happen so quickly, I usually didn’t realize I was drunk until something bad had already happened.

With his black pants, dark blue button-down shirt, black overcoat, and messenger bag slung across his chest, he looked like he’d walked right out of a J. He’d managed to get a coveted interview with one of the investigators, a primary source, which meant that he’d be able to go through documents together with the councilwoman and have her explain what the audit showed.

I mentioned that long ago when I was a reporter, I’d used a pocket scanner I bought in Japan to make copies of documents.

He was 33, was a nonsmoker, and said explicitly that he wanted kids. We finally wrapped up our discussion, but without enough time to head home first, I went straight to Longshots and decided to wait at the bar for him.

He was also a journalist covering the city hall beat for one of the local newspapers. I ordered a club soda with a twist of lime, which looked like my usual first-date drink but contained none of the potentially dangerous alcohol.

I told him that I’d once been to Dalian, a small city in the northeast.

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I moused over his photo gallery and started clicking through. Drink in hand, I commandeered my usual position at Longshots: the overstuffed leather sofa in the back corner.

As we waited for the coffee, our conversation began to wander from city hall to China.

He’d been fascinated with Asian culture and was hoping to travel to the outer edges of the Great Wall.

The majority of dates I’d been going on weren’t horrible, they just weren’t great. I knew that if I spent enough time searching through each site and going out with a large enough group of men, I could increase the probability of my finding the right one.

And besides, even if I canceled, I knew how Internet marketing worked. Your black pants and black or gray top or whatever you’re wearing isn’t good for a first date.

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