I am adding the following disclaimer to all of my dating related blog posts. I change details, and create composite characters when I write about dating archetypes such as “Mr. Houdini, Mr. Angry, etc. I would hate it if someone wrote about a high energy blonde comedian negatively in a blog, so because of that I never include a person’s occupation or anything about their physical description. I also change enough details that I doubt anyone I am referring to would even recognize themselves if they read one of my articles. I have split one person into three, or taken several people and put them all into one example. So simply put, I am very ethical on this blog.
I don’t think this entry will be profound or blow anyone’s mind but I have hit the proverbial wall so many times in this dating hell. Nearly everyone who has lived in NYC says the same thing
Dating in this city is hard
With 8 million people packed into a small space, we should trip over potential partners. Instead finding a good match seems next to impossible. Rudeness and bad behavior abound because nearly everyone is a stranger. Lost in a sea of humanity there are few consequences. Men and women do whatever they have to do to get maximum pleasure with as little pain as possible. Of course not everyone in New York City is out for a quick thrill, devoid of any real human interaction, but there are just enough jerks out there to ruin things for everyone. Here are just one such example:
The other night, while standing at a the edge of a basement room a bar/restaurant, a man walked over to me, grabbed me by the wrist and whisked me towards the bar. Two men I have known for years, that I trust immensely, saw the incident go down and didn’t seem concerned. Confused, I looked into this man’s eyes thinking that I might have met him before, and asked.
“Why did you just grab me? Dude I would normally rip your head off for that. What’s wrong with you?”
To which he replied in a thick Spanish accent.
“I am one of the owners of the restaurant”
“Well I don’t know that, I only know the producer of the show. Why are you grabbing people you don’t know? I’m a comedian, I tear people apart from onstage, you’ve no idea who you’re dealing with. Where are you from?”
“I am Mexican”
And I thought to myself, well you’re spoiled rich Mexican. And then in my head I created his entire families backstory of the same rich snobs marrying other rich snobs that were a little too closely related to each other rather than mix with the “rabble” of the poorer classes. And yes his aristocratic lineage flashed through my brain during this inane conversation especially since he practically had “Entitled Aristocrat” stamped on his forehead.
“Well you might be a comedian, but you are_kinda_ cute”
I wanted to vomit right there. Kinda cute. WOW. Watch my pants fall off. Really dude? Really? Then he proceeded to go on….
“I like the way you talk to me, I like that you told me what to do, people don’t talk to me that way…and I like it.”
So now he was asking for some type of BDSM fantasy to unfold here? Sorry sir but we have only just met, you have already pissed me off and I feel slimy just talking to you. I didn’t say that of course, but I thought it. He insisted on buying me a drink, I took my seltzer and lime and walked back over to my friend. Where I immediately told her what happened and she said.
“That’s so New York”
And the sad thing is that for some women, his “grab me by the arm and yank me over to the bar” seduction technique would have worked. He was good-looking, flying on cocaine and probably fairly wealthy. For many a lost soul, they might have seen an opportunity and went home with him. Only to have the following scenario play out. He would continue to drink, do more coke and then not be able to perform (due to the cocaine) or pass out drunk. Maybe his date might luck into getting some free drugs or have some awkward sex with him. If she was really lucky, Mr. Aristocrat might even remember her name the next time he saw her.
The entitlement in this man’s face was overwhelming. The “kinda” cute blonde in the corner was just another woman he could pluck out for the evening. The spoiled brat picked the wrong girl. Sure he probably gets turned down a lot, but in NYC he will have enough success due to his looks, money and drugs to keep the farce going for years. He could live like this until he destroys himself with drugs or settles down with another rich entitled brat, or maybe a model 20 years his junior. I’m sure this same situation happens in cities all over the country, but given New York’s density of wealth, a rude, wealthy playboy is a night life cliche.
If he grabs 10 women, he might get lucky with one. In a smaller city his reputation would be established soon enough, whereas in New York he can become brand new man, every single night. I drank my free seltzer and joked that we should keep an eye on it, in case he should “roofie” it. He moved on to easier prey. As I shared a cab home with my friend and mocked the absurdity of the evening, I couldn’t help but wonder, maybe there was a man in the same room who was just too intimidated to come up to us. Instead he looked in our direction and thought the better of it – as a rich asshole dominated our time. And people wonder why it is hard to date in the emotional desert that is New York.
- The Highline: the happiest mile in NYC (travelover40.wordpress.com)
- Dating Online – The Coward (julietjeskeblog.com)
- Dating After Divorce – Why is it so Difficult in your Late Thirties (julietjeskeblog.com)
- Dating After Divorce – In a City of Sluts (julietjeskeblog.com)
- When Love Happens in NYC (kamiladmowska.com)
- Dating in NYC: Sexless And The City (julietjeskeblog.com)