And then there’s this guy.
Brad, as he’s called, has a mustache. He hand-feeds his date ricotta (pronounced “ri-GO-ta”) cakes, then dabs the cheese off her mouth with a napkin. He not-so-accidentally spills pasta sauce on his shirt, then takes it off, magically revealing a cleanly lasered chest. To seal the deal, he takes her out to the back porch and opines on the virtues of a thin maxi pad.
Excuse me while I go eat a steak, not shave my chest, and never, ever, discuss sanitary napkins on a date.
If you model your life after this guy—except, do the exact opposite—you’re in good shape.