The East Side King
Neighborhood: You literally have no idea
It’s a typically packed weekend afternoon at Yellow Jacket, when a tall, leather-wearing Adonis who smells like BO mixed with incense (and maybe gasoline) asks, “Is this seat taken?” Whether it’s the beard, the charisma, or just his ability to wear man jewelry without looking like a complete and total idiot, you’re instantly attracted to him and more than happy to share picnic-table privileges... plus, obviously, mimosa buckets.
The first date: He picks you up on his motorcycle and you proceed to bounce from one East Side bar to another -- running into his friends, saying hi to his bartender buddies, and downing cheap beers at each. You spend about six hours together, and while he spends all of them talking about himself, he somehow manages to say absolutely nothing of substance. From the sounds of it, though, he’s some kind of tortured, emotionally unavailable sculptor/carpenter/model/actor/photographer hybrid. And probably broke. And definitely a narcissist.