“Sometimes I think Paul is a bit, you know, boring. Take his looks, for example, blond hair, blue eyes, square jaw… He’s just so WASP-y; even his job is so proper and expected…”

I’m trying really hard not to start yelling what an ungrateful, spoiled brat she is. “I’m curious, how would a non-boring man look?”

Julia stares at the ceiling with a dreamy expression. “Don’t you ever dream of an adventure with a tall, dark stranger? Someone with smoldering green eyes and full lips, and danger written all over his face. Someone who speaks Italian and doesn’t own a car.”

“And how would he get around? On the subway?”

The last time my sister took the subway, I was still in college.

“Ew, no. He would ride a bike, of course. One of those big, black monsters… We’re talking about the kind of guy who sweeps you off your feet with just one look, who can make you fall hard and fast. Someone mysterious, intriguing…”

“And what occupation would this dangerous stranger have, since marketing is clearly so out of style with you?” I ask, even if I agree that Paul’s job isn’t exactly exciting. I’ve no clue why he decided to waste all his creativeness to go work in the driest, most Corporate America branch of marketing the city has to offer.

“You didn’t get offended, did you?” Jules says. “When I said Paul’s job is boring, I didn’t mean yours, too. You do completely different things.”

Her disrespect of my profession is the least of my concerns at the moment.

“Not at all,” I say.

“Anyway,” she continues, unfazed. I suspect I could’ve said I was mortally offended, and I would’ve gotten the same reaction. “My stranger would have to be some kind of struggling artist, someone who lives paycheck to paycheck, and who appreciates everything he has because he doesn’t know if he’s going to still have it tomorrow.”

“So you basically want to marry a penniless, unemployed artist, who’d propose to you on top of a big rock with a plastic ring because he can’t afford a real diamond?”

“I never said marry, I only said I’d like one last adventure. Is that so wrong?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one about to walk down the aisle.”

I must’ve been scowling more than I realized, because Jules goes on the defensive. “No, you’re right. I’m just being silly. But it’s hard to think I’m done with first dates and first kisses… That Paul will be it for me for the rest of my life.”

Considering the last few disastrous first dates I went on, I count Julia lucky she won’t ever have to go on another one. “First dates are overrated, trust me.”