“Come on,” he said, “let’s just have dinner.”
He sounded funny and nice, and what did I have to lose? I also figured that nighttime restaurant lighting might be a little more forgiving than the sun streaming through the windows, blasting my face. （Did I mention John was six years younger than me?）
We made a dinner date for April 27th. He suggested the Danny Meyer restaurant Maialino in the Gramercy Park Hotel, which struck the perfect not-too-casual, not-too-fancy note.
A really strange part of going on blind dates when you’re a fixture on TV is that the guy already knows exactly what you look like （and probably has some sort of opinion about you as a person too）。 The good news is that his face won’t fall when he first lays eyes on you; there won’t be any huge surprises. Once when I was really pumped for a date, I googled the guy and found his company’s website along with a headshot of a model-handsome man and I thought, Hello, Gorgeous! But when I got to the restaurant, let’s just say he looked nothing like his photo. Turns out the picture he’d used online was a model’s.
Even if John Molner knew what I looked like, I wanted to appear as alluring as possible, so I resurrected the leather-skirt look that had worked pretty well for me back in the day and applied enough makeup to enhance my features, without it looking like I had used spackle.
The hostess was escorting me across the restaurant when, midway, someone appeared out of nowhere—he’d been waiting at the bar—and stuck out his hand. “Hey, I’m John.”
He was wearing a chocolate suede jacket, a basic dress shirt, and nondescript slacks. I didn’t love his loafers, but he had a nice way about him. We were led to a primo table for two in the back.
John ordered soft-shell crabs and their famous slow-roasted pork dish Maialino al forno. This guy likes to eat, I remember thinking approvingly. That, and He may be Jewish, but he’s definitely not kosher.
I got the lemon pasta and decided to order a glass of wine. I’m not much of an oenophile, but I wanted to impress my date, so I asked the waiter if they had a Barolo, which I’d recently heard a friend order and knew was a step up from your average red. “Oh,” he replied, clearly pleased. “Let me get the sommelier.”
I made a quick accounting of the guy sitting across from me: Definitely cuter than when I googled him （which had done his perfectly nice nose no favors）。 He had a firm handshake, seemed comfortable in his skin. So far, so good. I joked about the fact that we were finally here, together, in the flesh, and said I hoped Molly and Dave hadn’t twisted his arm too much. John laughed.
The sommelier suddenly appeared and bent at the waist. “I hear you’re interested in a Barolo. Well, you’re in luck! We have a very fine Barolo,” he said. I couldn’t tell the difference between a very fine Barolo and a medium-fine one, but he didn’t know that.
“Great,” John said. The sommelier decanted the wine tableside.
After we let it breathe for a bit, as we’d been instructed, the Barolo flowed, and so did the conversation. John told me about growing up in Chicago; I mentioned that my parents had met in Chicago and my mom had always wanted me to move there. He talked a little bit about his divorce and his two kids; I told him about the girls. What didn’t come up during dinner: he was dating a 27-year-old.
The very agent-y William Morris agent Jon Rosen, who’d always been after me to be his client （eventually I relented）， came over to our table to say hi and invite us to a party for Robin Williams that was going on upstairs. John got into a lengthy conversation with Williams, which impressed me. Even now, after all the famous people I’ve met and interviewed, I still sometimes get nervous around celebrities, but he seemed completely unfazed. I liked that.
Then we sat down on an ottoman to chat with someone else, and John put his hand on my back. It took me by surprise, but it also felt good. Later, when he hailed me a cab, I returned the favor by kissing him lightly on the lips before jumping in.
Little did I know John’s girlfriend was waiting for him in the lobby of his building.
“How was your date with Katie Couric?” she asked.
Apparently, a friend of hers was at the restaurant and had sent her a text.
EMAIL FROM ME, April 27th, 11:01 p.m.:
OK. First date evaluation: You are really fun and funny! Thanks so much for dinner and having blind faith in a blind date!
Email from John, April 28th, 9:31 a.m.:
My evaluation: Excellent date. You have a great smile, bright eyes, and an edgy downtown black leather （Gucci no less） skirt! （for a woman who lives @ Park and 91st）