Dating in New York is Hell: Change My Mind
Dating in New York is worse than I could ever have imagined. It doesn’t matter how many warnings your friends beg you to heed; the results never fail to seem like some sort of comedic punishment. I, delusionally, claim to approach every onset of a relationship with an open mind and an open heart (I’m laughing over here on my end in retrospect, but the kind of laughter one has after just barely avoiding being hit by a bus). The hellscape of humble concrete in which we dare to date is relentless that I am ethically required to divvy up my experiences in a series because one article simply will not be able to encompass the atrocities that I have born witness to thus far.
Let me try to unpack this in a somewhat chronological fashion. Where do you even meet potential romantic interests?
Bars
The only upside is that you can blame your poor decision making on Tito’s and sodas. The downside is that as you approach your late twenties that excuse simply doesn’t work anymore and you wake up to realize that you rung up an $87 tab just to get ghosted by someone who uses 3-in-1 soap. Nothing sobers you up more than seeing how marginally adult men live. I’m begging you, just buy real soap. You all skate by off of bare minimum standards anyways.
Tinder
Every time I recreate a Tinder account I have to look in the mirror and accept that I am on the cusp of yet another manic episode. But, alas, the lesser of two evils is Tinder when the other option is giving yourself bangs with kitchen shears while blasting Mitski. Don’t get me wrong, though, seeing the little flame icon live discreetly amid all my other apps has the same level of dark chaotic energy. In a sea of an impressive array of mediocrity, the bar is on the effin’ floor. Between potentially having to explain that I met someone on Tinder and the potential of being murdered by a man who looked normal enough, I’m going to reconsider getting bangs next time.
Work
It’s fascinating how good everyone looks when we are all in our professional attire: whether you work in an office or a diner. My theory is that anything is way more interesting to focus on at work than the actual work you are obligated to do. Work crushes are the only feasible means of entertainment since you can’t straight up binge watch Gossip Girl for the 11th time and chug cheap wine out of the bottle. But, I would die at the altar pleading us all to stop hooking up with our coworkers. I have considered on many occasions to just quit my job. Learn from me. Don’t be like me. Go in the other direction as far as you can.
I know this is a bleak take on meeting someone. Don’t worry. It gets bleaker. The actual hook-up, the dates, the texting, and defining the relationship. The comedic content never fails to deliver, and I am here to testify. As exhausting as it is to work up the energy to start over again and again, we all do it. We cry in the shower, pick ourselves back up, and head right back to Mood Ring or Carmelo’s for that poor unfortunate fool who didn’t know they were leaving the house to be someone’s rebound that night. My testimony can be viewed as dry cynicism, but also as a testimony to how resilient we all are, refusing to be jaded. If any of this was relatable, pat yourself on the back, you deserve it. When you head out to Carmelo’s this weekend, remember, real friends don’t shame you for taking seven consecutive shots of bottom-shelf liquor and skaters are only good for rebounds.