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The quirkier hetero women constantly apologize for having a personality; the reactions of the men explain why they feel that need.
The queer folks lock into a camaraderie—or at least a reference palette—that cuts some of the tension marking the straight dates.
At the end, the main subject meets up for a second rendezvous with his or her favorite suitor. Though cringey, the gaffes bolster the sense that genuine interaction is being portrayed.
Most exhibit a hyper-cosmopolitan, inside-jokey self-awareness, though often with comic blind spots (who meeting for a date in Brooklyn hasn’t heard of Narragansett beer? It’d be nice if future seasons made like The remarkable thing that emerges about NYC, though, is the possibility of connection—and clashes—across cultures, tastes, and ethics.
And while the show doesn’t overtly chase sociopolitical controversy, a certain amount of think-piece fodder is inherent.
More than one dater recycles jokes across multiple encounters, robotlike.
(Most amusing/egregious is Leonard, an otherwise charming 70-year-old whose overlong bit about dissecting frogs so annoys one dining partner that she gives him a simpler joke to use in the future.) Daters casually offer that they know of a post-dinner place around the corner—a cocktail bar, a dessert truck—and steer the date there again and again.