First off, thank you, Anonymous, for your question. Since bartenders know everything, this succinct and completely helpful response should come as a beaming cone of light down on your whimsical and shriveled heart.
Why dating in New York sucks (part 1)?
You ever really like someone a lot here in New York?
I mean, not just ‘like’ someone. I’m talking you went out to drinks, which was full of charming banter, a little touching of the hand/and or knees, all colliding into a subtle, but firm kiss. Then you’re hungry. So are they. You go to Rye on South 1st. The ambiance is seductive, more kissing, both of you love the same Pixies record the best. There are no lulls in the dialogue. Some talk of books, some talk of politics, a little about the past, but not enough to make things weird. The food is served; it’s delicious. The endive and pear salad is delightful and refreshing, both of you agree the scallops are to die for, the Classic Old Fashion Cocktails are going right to your heads. After dinner there’s the walk around the neighborhood, a passionate make out session against the wall of the Levee bar. Some ‘make bad decisions’ shots to follow. Now the both of you go back to your house and have porny, yet tender, hardcore sex until both of your come at least twice and you lay back, sharing a rolled Samson cigarette, blissfully staring at the ceiling and not worrying about going to work the next day cause it Presidents Day.
You know what I mean? No?
Want to know why?
Because this scenario does not fucking happen! Ever. Ok. Maybe once. But only after the 756 dates you have been on in your ten year tenure in this soulless godforsaken city.
New York City, compared to other city’s (and yes, the bartender psychically can communicate to all other bartenders across the nation) is the most difficult city to find dating satisfaction. Since this is an obviously broad discussion I will cover two points this week and the next two points next week (that’s a mouthful).
YOU’RE ON OK CUPID.
Okay. Face it. You’re a loser, right? You’re also a cheap bastard who cannot afford pay sites like Match.com. You can’t meet people the normal way because a) you are a workaholic, b)You’re shy, right? Seriously, you are only allowed to be shy under 25, grow the fuck up, c) You’re sexual deviant, fine, I’ll except that, d) You’re desperate. The last one is important. Have we become such a lonely race here that we have to order human beings online like Fresh Direct? Is it that hard just to talk to people in this town? I’ll give credit to the hardships of talking to people here in Williamsburg. It’s a neighborhood of socially awkward retards. But even then, ironically bring up the last Deerhunter concert at the Music Hall and sure enough, they’ll be black tight pants and American Apparel underwear crumpled on your floor the next day.
Internet dating is for creepers, social retards, and workaholics, and if you’re anything like my roommate, Tony, you are all three. Maybe Ok Cupid is the place for you. But now you’re just adding to the awkward mechanisms of the 11211.
ROMANCING THE GRIT
You were some hot shit beauty/bachelor in your shitty small ass town in America that you pretty much dominated the scene. Big fish, small town. Somehow you got it in your mind to move to NEW! – YORK! – CITY! All the Woody Allen movies, the fashion scenes, Iggy Pop lives here! It’s a dirty, grimy, hardcore scene that will make or break you, unless, of course, you dominate it!
This is the pathetic and thoroughly unlikely dream everyone has in moving here from that shitty small ass town in America.
You will not win.
New York will kill you.
But, alas, the little orphan Annie dreamer in you says you can make it here. Down and dirty McCarren Pool parties. Sweaty, coke fueled dance parties at Glasslands.
Where’s the love? There is no love. No one moves here for love. They move here to feed their gigantic, self-affirming, over-arching, bulbous, ferocious egos.
You just want love now because that same air balloon of your ego just got popped. That’s why your writing your bartender for advice.
(Stay tuned for next weeks conclusion to Why Dating Sucks in New York - Part Two?)
To see what the bartender REALLY knows, email 1 DIRECT QUESTION to firstname.lastname@example.org and find your answer in our next installment.