Here are some things I know about Matt:
1. He’s Canadian.
2. He agreed to spend his Thursday night with me at Señor Frog's.
Here are some things I know about Señor Frog's:
1. It’s a popular spring break destination.
2. The website indicates that drinks come in sand castle buckets.
I feel good on both fronts.
Matt texts me to let me know he’s running late, which is considerate, so I enter the restaurant on my own. The fluorescent lighting of the first floor -- that is entirely merchandise -- is harsh, like a Mexican-themed H&M. I tell the woman at the desk of my 7:15pm dinner reservation, and she walkie-talkies down to the seating area to let the staff know I have arrived.
The bar is mostly empty, save for 30 employees of varying job descriptions and maybe four pairs of overweight, middle-aged women wearing balloon hats and drinking from plastic palm tree cocktail cups that look undeniably phallic.
Matt greets me shortly. He is tall and bearded, and I am relieved because he lives up to his profile picture. I’m absolutely shallow, but also don’t like to be deceived.