Neighborhood: South Beach. Definitely The Flamingo.
His name is probably Phillip, but it’s pronounced “Phil-LEEP,” and definitely not “Phil-lip” or “Felipe.” You meet him at Bâoli on a Wednesday, because that’s where all Europeans in Miami hang out on Wednesdays. He’s the only guy sitting at the bar eating cheese and drinking red wine when you walk up to order a Cosmo, which he scoffs at and judges you for ordering. But then he smiles, tells you he’s kidding (he’s not), and charms you with his sexy French accent.
Your first date: A hole-in-the-wall wine bar on South Beach. You’ve never heard of it, and in reality it’s probably complete crap, but Phil-LEEP has determined that this is the real deal because he is French and he knows things of this nature. He takes the liberty of ordering a bottle for the two of you, and you pretend you know how to do that smell-sip-slurp thing that they do in Sideways. You talk travel, philosophy, art, culture, and a bunch of other things you know nothing about, and you start picturing the chateau you’ll have in Nice together. You go home to Wikipedia all the cities he mentioned on the date, and also to find out how to spell “chateau."
Your inevitable breakup: Days with the Frenchie are magical and involve lots of wine, romantic dinners, and brunches at Bagatelle. But while his worldly knowledge is 100 times better than any conversation you had with Mr. Gym Rat, he never lets you pick a restaurant or what you’re wearing, and you realize that’s because he’s kind of an elitist. Plus, eating cheese for dessert every night has made you fat, and the Google Translate you need to talk to him is draining your data plan. When he starts visiting Paris for work every other month, you start ghosting... and stop hanging out at The Flamingo, which you realize is a good life decision in general.
You meet at Art Walk, because you’re both checking out the same piece of art at the same gallery. He’s got that Harry Potter-meets-hipster vibe going on, and wants to know what you think of the painting, so after more art talk, he asks for your number to “discuss it further.”
Your first date: At Panther Coffee, because it’s cold brewed and “only buys its beans from the little guys, which makes the world a better place,” according to this smiling hippie man. You find out he owns an art studio in Wynwood, which also happens to be where he lives. He thinks rocks are beautiful and is currently launching an introspective art project on whether or not rocks have feelings.
Your inevitable breakup: He goes to Burning Man, and marries a girl he does shrooms with in a sham wedding by a guy who drinks his own pee and calls himself the "Shaman." He comes back with a newfound desire to find himself, which involves a lot of pot, painting wall murals with his feet, and not showering. You decide he needs to find himself... a new girlfriend.
Girl With Dog
Neighborhood: South Beach
You meet at Haulover, because you’re there checking out the nude beach, and she’s there for the dog park. You pretend to ask for directions to the dog park, which she sees right through because, well, you have no dog. She, however, obliges and points you in the right direction. You chat her up, secretly wishing she will then ask you for directions to the nude beach, but she doesn’t, so you ask for her number instead. Smooth.
Your first date: You’ve dated girls with dogs before, so you’re well aware of the early-dinner-or-late-drinks window of opportunity, because we all know Peanut has to be let out at 6pm on the dot. You drive to South Beach because you’re a gentleman, and also because you want to go back to her place later, so you opt for 8pm drinks at STK. She has an iPhone-photo slideshow prepared with a timeline starting with how her and Peanut met, and you spend the night evaluating the hotness-to-dog ratio to see if this is all worth it.
Your inevitable breakup: She hears the dog barking mid-sex and gets up to let him out to pee, which causes you to start having visions of running him over with your Honda Accord. It ends forever when she asks you to buy him the special brand of Purina he loves, but you get the discount one from the 7-Eleven on the corner. She never forgives you.
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