“My generation dates all the time,” I rebutted, poking his leg with my foot and leaning back onto the armrest of the couch. “In high school, it seemed like that’s all anyone did.”

“Not you,” he pointed out. He meant it totally innocently, but hearing it still stung a little bit, reminding me how I’ve always felt a little different from the people around me in the wrong ways.

“And people in your generation may date,” he continued, “but I’d be hard-pressed to find another teenager today who actually asked someone out in person.”

“How do you know I did it in person?” I asked.

“A father always knows.” He tapped the side of his head and winked.

“Try again.” I rolled my eyes. “Did Mom see something?”

“If she did, she hasn’t said anything to me.” He shrugged and I knew he was telling the truth. Outside of important “need-to-know” stuff or the little things that don’t matter, Mom’s rare-vision-sharing policy extended to Dad too.

“But I know you, Rose. You don’t seem to text very much, unless you can do it entirely in emojis. So it had to have been in person.”

“Okay, yes,” I admitted, “I asked her out in person.”

“See?” He was victorious. “That is the classy move! I’d say you’re ahead of the curve already.”

“Okay, yeah, sure, but what do I do next?”

“Have you picked a date yet? A date for the date?” He chortled at his own … I hesitate to call it a joke.

“Yeah, she suggested Friday.”

“Friday is a very good day for a date.”

“I guess … I don’t think it really matters,” I said. “I’m not working right now and she’s in college, so it’s not like she has to get up early or anything—”

“Still, Friday is a classic. I know some people would argue for Saturday, because you have the whole day to relax and prepare, but Saturday is a good second-date day. You want the first date to be on a Friday, because you get the person fresh off their week.”

“And that’s a good thing?” I asked skeptically. I don’t know anyone who is “fresh” after a full work or school week.

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding vigorously. “The Saturday version of a person is its whole own thing. Some people are incredibly active on the weekends, picking up a million hobbies. Some laze about all day and watch TV. Others sleep in so late they barely have a Saturday.”

“If that’s a shot at me, it’s not appreciated,” I said. “The restaurant business has terrible hours.”

“All I’m saying is that Saturday is its own sacred thing.”

“I don’t know if Emily is Jewish, Dad,” I said, before adding, “Don’t tell Mom.” Though I guess there’s a chance she already knows.