A hip and sophisticated friend, a longtime New Yorker, complained to me recently about a potential date. “He wanted to meet at 6 o’clock for dinner,” she said. “Can you imagine? I don’t leave the house until 7:30 at the earliest!” I nodded sympathetically, but as someone who has been known to have an early dinner myself, I couldn’t help but wonder: “What does she think this is, 2018?”