Date this evening with an English Lit grad student I met at a Guggenheim fundraiser about a month back. She was there as another guy’s date; we met in the line for drinks, hit it off, and surreptitiously traded contact info.

A few emails back and forth (in which space I’ve determined she’s significantly wittier than I), and we’re headed out for a first date to the Swing 46 supper club.

I’ve pulled out my khakis and suspenders and have been listening to big band music all afternoon, trying desperately to recall all the swing moves I once knew.

Wish me luck, boys, wish me luck.