It’s 3 a.m. Somehow, I’ve ended up at an SNL after-party, still buzzed off of tequila shots and the adrenaline of slipping past the bouncer with a secret door code. I’m about to take a sip of my Cosmopolitan when an Irish guy approaches. “What’s your craic?” he asks.
Within ten minutes, he and his friends have called me out for the way I pronounce “dog,” made a completely unprovoked dig at my pink drink, and accused me of being “too confident for an American.” But it wasn’t malicious—they were testing me. Seeing if I could hold my own. Little did they know I’m an East Coaster from a Jewish family, where affection means getting roasted alive. If my mother could look at my outfit in the fifth grade and say, “Interesting choice—are we going for ‘vagrant on the subway’ today?” A couple of Irishmen taking the piss wouldn’t break me.
I woke up the next morning (OK, afternoon) and felt like a kid again. Immediately, I reached for my notebook. PITCH IDEA: Good banter is what’s missing from our dating lives right now.