Plaid and Pink

The restaurant was as noisy as a wasp nest, dimly lit, but there was a je ne sais quoi about the whole place. Jerry pulled down his shirt feeling its slight tightness across his midsection, and exhaled as he watched Nial settle into his seat across from him. Nial wore a crisp sky blue button-down with a pink tie, a nice pop of color under a navy jacket which accentuated his biceps. He was beautiful, thought Jerry. Nial turned off his phone and put it in his pocket.

Jerry was an attorney at an up-and-coming political law firm in Chicago. He had met Nial, an NPR reporter at a recent trial and asked him out.

“So, how does NPR handle first dates?” Jerry asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you start with an exposé or ease in with a human interest story?”

Nial laughed and responded confidently. “Haha. I'm not NPR. I just work for NPR. But it depends on the subject. If it’s promising, we might even get a second episode.”

Jerry chuckled, taking a sip of water and giving eye contact to the waiter. “Hopefully, I’m not competing with any breaking news.”

“Haha. No worries,” Nial said, glancing over the menu. “Just the usual uncertainty in the Age of Elon, the decoupling of America and Europe, and my aunt texting me hourly to ask when I’m settling down with a long term boyfriend.”

“Ah, the big three.” Jerry grinned. “My aunt just wants to know if I’ve cut back on carbs.”

“Have you?”

Jerry hesitated, then motioned toward the bread basket. “Let’s say… I believe in moderation.”

"Moderation is good."

Nial had such a natural smile that pleased Jerry. And Jerry played with his glass in a nervous manner which pleased Nial.

They laughed, and for a moment, the weight of the world felt like something outside the restaurant walls. Jerry and Nial immediately felt good and safe in each other's company. But as the drinks arrived and the conversation deepened, the terrain shifted.

Nial could hear his mother saying, “You crazy son!”

“So, clerking for Justice Thomas,” Nial said, casually swirling his mai thai. “That must’ve been… a cool experience.”

Jerry softened. “Yeah, he’s—well, he’s a lot more laid-back than people think. Watches NASCAR, loves RVs, doesn’t talk much unless he really has something to say.” Jerry took a sip of his white wine, wondering about mentioning RVs, then looked up at Nial in a seductive way above his glass. “You covered the Harvard affirmative action case, right?”

Nial nodded. “I did. That decision had a lot of folks talking! I spent tons of time on the phone with students and advocacy groups. A lot of mixed opinions.”

Neither knew at this point which way the date would go. Jerry loved how Nial could spin some small talk.

Still, Jerry took the plunge. “And by mixed, you mean mostly pissed? So what do you think about it?”

Nial chuckled but kept his gaze steady, buttering a piece of sourdough bread. “It's complicated.”

Nothing like the word “complicated” to put a pause on the evening. The conversation had wandered into dangerous waters, the kind that could wreck a first date before it even left the harbor. But there was an undeniable pull between them, something neither wanted to dismiss that easily.

Jerry leaned in slightly, tapping his fingers against his wine glass. “Okay, let’s be real. You’re a Black journalist covering the end of affirmative action. I clerked for the guy who helped end it. And here we are.”

“And here we are,” Nial echoed, lifting his glass. “The Obama-Trump divide in human form.”

Jerry laughed. “Damn, when you put it like that…”

“I mean, look,” Nial continued, setting his drink down. “I get the argument. Colorblindness, meritocracy. But tell me this—when do we know it’s really time to end affirmative action? When do we know that taking race out of the equation isn’t just wishful thinking?”

Jerry tilted his head, considering. “I think we’ve passed that point. At some stage, policies meant to level the playing field start to tip it instead. As my boss used to say, ‘If you want racism to disappear, stop making race the deciding factor.’”

Nial pursed his lips. “Right. And I hear that. But let me ask you—how do we make sure the opportunities are still there for people who’ve been historically boxed out? Class-based solutions?”

Jerry nodded. “I think class is the better metric. You help the poor, regardless of race, and you’ll still be helping a disproportionate number of Black and Hispanic folks.”

Nial smiled. “And yet… something tells me that when these policies shift from race to class, they just don’t get enforced with the same urgency.”

Jerry raised a finger above his wine glass. “See, that’s a fair point. I’d argue that’s not a flaw in the philosophy, though. That’s a flaw in execution.”

Nial smirked. “Mm-hmm. The ‘it’s not the system, it’s the people running it’ defense. Classic conservative play.”

Jerry leaned forward slightly, his expression softening but still focused. He’d not been with anyone this smart, he knew that. “Okay, let me ask you this. Do you think human dignity—human rights—are fundamental? That they exist outside of history, as something absolute?” Jerry felt safe in rationalist philosophy. But would Nial go along with him?

Nial took a thoughtful pause, then exhaled. “Very good. That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Nial played slowly with the straw in his glass. “If you’re an essentialist, you believe rights and dignity are inherent, something we all possess just by being human. If you’re a historicist, you see them as things that were fought for and developed over time. Not fundamental, just… modern.”

Jerry was exuberant. “Exactly! And that’s where we differ, I think. I lean toward essentialism. That’s why I believe in a colorblind society. I think equality is a moral constant, and the law should reflect that now.”

“And I totally respect that," said the seasoned journalist. "But if you’re a historicist, like me, you’d see that equality isn’t a given. It’s been built over time, painfully, brick by brick. It’s not some floating truth in the universe—it’s a human project. And if we let up too soon, it crumbles.”

Jerry exhaled. “Okay. That’s a damn good argument.”

Nial smiled sheepishly. “I have my moments.”

Jerry studied him, something turning over in his mind. “You ever think about how divided everything is now? I mean, real, unbridgeable political divisions?”

Nial sighed. “All the time. My dad’s a lifelong Republican. My mom? Lifelong Democrat. When I was a kid, that didn't seem the big deal it does today. They told me, straight up, that their values were bigger than partisanship. That at the end of the day, they wanted the same things.”

Jerry’s expression softened. “And now?”

“Now?” Nial shook his head. “I don’t know if they’d even get married in today’s climate.” He leaned in slightly, meeting Jerry’s eyes. “That’s what I’m looking for. Someone who can tap into those shared values. Someone who sees beyond the tribalism. I know it’s a big ask.”

Jerry let the words settle between them, then grinned. “Alright, let’s make a deal. No matter how much we debate this, we don’t let it kill the date. Agreed?”

Nial smiled wickedly. “Oh, I’m not worried. I know how to have a debate and keep my dessert.”

Jerry coughed, taking the last sip of his drink. But he recovered. “Good, because I was just about to order pie.”

Nial shook his head, leaning back. “Just know, if you bring up Reagan while we eat it, I’m walking out.”

Jerry feigned deep thought. “What if I do it in a tight five?”

“If you can actually make Reagan funny, I’ll consider a second date.”

Jerry grinned. “Challenge accepted.”