Lou Smorals
Tonight’s date wasn’t quite a grand-slam, I guess, at least in date-y, teen-movie terms. As villainy is so much more entertaining than civility, I wish I could report that Lou Smorals assaulted a baby hobo in front of me, or confessed that he was Jim Jones’s spiritual advisor, or honked my breasts and then repeatedly sang “Nothing to write home about” in a quavering falsetto. But no, Lou Smorals is friendly and fun, witty and extremely funny – stories of Park Avenue hookers and reenactments of Japanese porn sounds are things that I will always, always laugh at. I actually really want to absorb him, Borg-like, into my circle of friends, especially as I sensed a healthy dose of friend-vibe from his corner. Tonight’s lack of success had nothing to do with Lou, really, and everything to do with life and context and back-story and whatnot. The reason Lou isn’t the best match is as follows:
Lou Smorals is the brother of a cuddly, thoroughly platonic friend of mine from school. The twin brother. WHAT THE HELL, right? TWINS ARE LIKE UNICORNS: THEY ARE SO CONFUSING. I’ve heard a few too many stories and seen a little too much of The Man Who (Almost) Bears Lou’s Face for the date to swerve too far away from the fraternal/sororal. The scenario was a little like [SPOILER ALERT] “Veronica Mars” if Duncan and Veronica actually were siblings, or SNL’s Weekend Update if Tina Fey and Jimmy Kimmel suddenly started making out. On second thought, there have probably been numerous fanfics written about both of those scenarios.
And yet! It was a really good night. I laughed a lot; I drank some perfect-ratio whiskey sours; I ate Artichoke’s Sicilian, the Jesus’s foreskin of pizza slices; and I got acquainted with the oh-so-bitchin’ Banjo Jim’s, where there is live music seven days a week, without a cover. The last song of the night was a beautiful, beautiful cover of “You’ve Really Got a Hold on Me,” performed by a woman who dresses like Ellen Degeneres and sings like Linda Ronstadt. Sometimes a “failed” date isn’t a failure.
