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Top 10 Rules for Dating in New York City – If you’re completely over it and don’t give a shit anymore.

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After a three-year stint of completely avoiding the dating scene in New York City I dared to venture back into the fray.  I’m probably going to opt out again any day now as it’s just as screwed up as it’s ever been.  Here are my handy tips if you’ve hit the wall and nearly given up hope.

1. If your date actually shows up you are halfway there – It’s next to impossible to get a man to actually agree to a date.  Expect nothing.  When I say nothing I mean exactly that.  Will your date show up?  Maybe!  He might look completely different from the person in his photos.  You might get a cancellation as late as several minutes into your planned encounter.  He might meet you briefly and then drag you into a social situation full of strangers.  Once on a second date I was introduced to an entire dinner party full of friends along with my date’s teenage daughter.  The two of us clicked right away because neither one of us wanted to be there.  Her first words to me were about how her mother had been arrested in an European airport for throwing a temper tantrum.  Needless to say that I didn’t end up dating her father.

Pro-tip – If your date doesn’t show up order a dirty martini and just start talking to random strangers.  You’ll probably end up with a new gay male best friend.  That’s what’s happens to me anyway.

2. Cyberstalk the shit out of the person – Not only do I advise doing this, I think you’d be reckless to not google them.  I’ve found articles and images my dates didn’t know existed.  I’ve made the mistake of telling complete strangers what I’ve found on them.  Men tend to misread this one.  I’m just making sure they’re not married, a serial killer or using an alias.

Pro-tip – Do NOT scroll through the comments section.  The comments section on any social media account will reveal too much.  I’ve figured out who is an ex-girlfriend, who might want to be the next girlfriend and even exact dates of breakups.  If you want to leave some mystery feel free to scroll through the images, just avoid the commentary.  If a person wants privacy they wouldn’t be putting these images online.  I don’t know how many people I’ve had to point this out to before.  If you put it on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook or any other social media app we can all see it.  If you want privacy then change the privacy settings for those accounts.

3. Avoid initiating all correspondence after a date – New Yorkers like their partners silent and hassle free.  If you contact them at all for any purpose whatsoever you risk being branded a “Crazy clingy psycho” even if you only text them a handful of times.  Don’t call them on the actual phone, I you do that you’ll freak them out so much they’ll probably notify the police.  If you are unconventional like myself and contact someone via email or on social media they might move to another state to avoid your stalker ways.  I’m strange in that I tend to interact with most of my friends on social media.  I’ve found when I do this to men I barely know or have never met they completely misread it.

Pro-tip – As soon as you walk away from the date immediately delete his number.  I wish I was actually capable of this but I’d still strongly suggest you try it.

4. Become a semi-professional pornographer – Like dick pics?  Well it’s your lucky day, you’ll get plenty!  Worried about having nude or semi-nude photos of yourself floating around the internet for all of eternity?  What are you some kind of uptight prude?  Buy some lighting, get a good camera and Photoshop out any tattoos that might reveal your identity.  Fall in love with close-ups of your genitalia because people you’ve hung out with for less than two hours will come asking for them.  You’ll sometimes get these requests before your first date.

Pro-tip – You never know where those photos are going to end up.  Send them a photo of a cat or Dick Cheney.  Fuck with their head.  Give them nothing.

5. Learn to love spontaneity – Like planning more than a day in advance?  Have an unusual schedule that can be difficult to plan around?  Well then you’re never dating anyone.  If you won’t jump up at a moment’s notice and meet some guy you barely know in a dive bar in the Lower East Side,  you’re never getting laid again.  Get used to meeting up with men when they’re already half drunk.  You might be the second or third woman they’ve texted that night.  Once I showed up to a bar only to meet another woman who was also beckoned.  He’d made a mistake and didn’t realize we might both show up.  He didn’t get laid but I’m still friends with the woman to this day.

Pro tip – Find someone with the same batshit crazy schedule as yourself.  It might seem impossible which why I also suggest learning to love YouTube clips from “Mad Men” watching images of Jon Hamm might just be enough, it usually is for me anyway.

6. You’ll be judged harshly for all of your life choices up until this point – Did you go to state college?  Did you major in the arts?  Do you live with five roommates?  Are you divorced?  Have you ever lived with anyone?  How many stupid jobs have you had?  Bernie Bro or HRC?  If you call yourself a moderate you basically are admitting you’re a Neo Nazi.  You will be judged, cataloged and written off for the slightest offense or sign of eccentricity.

Pro-tip – Judge back.  Go deep.  If he gives you grief for having three cats shame him for not opening his life and apartment up to one of the millions of unwanted animals languishing in shelters.  How dare he live his life WITHOUT a cat.  So what if he’s allergic there are LIVES TO BE SAVED HERE!

7. Expect lazy dates – Would you feel comfortable going over to a stranger’s apartment for a glass of wine for a first date?  Why not?  Maybe you don’t like being dismembered, date raped or being trapped in an apartment with a drunken fool.  I’ve been asked out for that exact scenario more than once.  I know I’m such an uptight bitch for insisting on a public location full of potential witnesses but I’m old fashioned that way.

Pro-tip – Always insist on a public place for a first date and when in doubt make up an annoying texting friend so you can leave whenever you want.

8. Find the right slut balance – The Madonna/Whore complex runs deep in the urban male.  Men will expect and hope that you will have sex with them minutes after you meet them.  If you decide to take the plunge too early you’ll be branded a worthless slut and discarded accordingly.  If you try to hold out for a second or third date you might be considered a sexless puritanical old maid.  If you’ve survived date one without putting out then you enter the dangerous territory of the space between date one and two.  Will you have to whip out your own personal Penthouse level quality snapshots?  Or will you be expected to sext, flirt or engage in XXX Instant Messaging.  Have a web cam?  All the better just don’t go full porn star or you’re not likely to hear from him again.  The only exception of course is if you’re in the polyamorous group.  Then there are no rules.  The slut balance is your balance.  

Pro-tip – I’ve got nothing.  Use condoms.  You’re still going to get at least three strains of HPV with condoms anyway but you’ll hopefully avoid The Clap or maybe some new antibiotic resistant strain of Gonorrhea doctors won’t be able to treat yet.

9. Dates will ask for full disclosure – Where do you live?  That’s probably priority #1 because no one wants to put any effort forth.  If they live in Bushwick and you live in Bay Ridge the chances of a second date are slim to none.  If you meet someone who lives in another borough it had better be a 15-20 minute commute or it’s never going to happen.  You can live more than 30 minutes away but it had better be on the same train line and not require a transfer.  How much do you make?  Who did you vote for in 1992?  Were you old enough to vote in 1992?  What do you do for a living?  How many kids do you want to have?  Do you have kids?  What is your drug history?  What drugs do you do on a regular basis?  Don’t be surprised if your date asks you about specific sexual preferences or peccadilloes.  

Pro-tip – Tell them everything.  Declare things they never even asked about.  Reveal your last boyfriend’s dick size and shape.  Why not?  They’ll probably find it out while cyberstalking you anyway.

10. Practice Self-Care – Find a beautiful spot in nature such as a park, beach or flower garden.  Pick up a mason jar, hold it closely in your hands.  As you hold meditate and manifest all the things you’d love to find in a good partner.  Visualize everything down to specific details.  Feel their touch of their hands, hear the sound of their voice, and smell their scent.  Then open the jar, put it close to your mouth and let out a long and passionate gutteral scream.  Seal the jar and bury it.  That’s the last time you’ll be able to express any real emotion.  Emotion is for suckers.  If you want to successfully date in New York City you need ice water in your veins.

Pro-tip – Expect to have breakdowns.  If you’re going to try to date in this town you’re going to have breakdowns.  When in doubt get a cat.  I have three.  I still have breakdowns.

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NYC Dating – Men of NYC – I’m just not that into you.

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One of the main reasons I hate online dating is that it throws off the traditional straight male and female dynamic.  I don’t care what study or survey claims to the contrary – straight men HATE it when women are aggressive.  There are exceptions to this rule of course but they are few and far between.

As a woman with a somewhat dominant personality I know this all too well.  I speak plainly.  I say exactly what I’m thinking.  There is very little subtext in anything I do or utter.  I don’t even know how to operate in a manipulative way.  The whole idea of saying one thing while meaning something else completely baffles me.  I realize this trait of mine is unusual.  It tends to get me in trouble when it comes to dating.

Most straight men want to pursue a woman.  They want to woo her and win her over as if she is some sort of rare albino gazelle on the grasslands of Africa.  The pursuit feeds their ego, it makes them feel like the woman is some sort of rare gem, and it makes them feel like they’re in control.  Any woman who makes it known too early that she is also actively pursuing a man is seen as less desirable, desperate or pathetic.

Here’s the thing gentlemen of the city that never sleeps.  Despite being 45 years old and being far from perfect I can still get just about any man.  If all I’m looking for is no strings attached sex it’s not a problem.  If I only want to have sex with the man once and never see him again it’s even easier.  I’m not including married men and men in committed relationships when I say that, although I get plenty of offers from men who aren’t exactly single.   I’m not bragging.  I’m not unique or exceptional.  Nearly any woman within a reasonable age range can bed just about any single and available man.   Men pay for the privilege of getting sex.  They spend hours in strip clubs in a sexually charged environment.  Some will waste most of their leisure time watching porn.  Sex for men can be difficult to come by but for most women sex is easy.  It’s almost too easy.  There’s no challenge in it.  There’s no game.  Simply be willing and able and give no signs that you expect anything but sex and most women can bed whomever they please.

This is where online dating comes in.  The dynamic of men pursuing women gets completely thrown off because half the apps make it next to impossible for men to start the ball rolling.  I understand why this is as most women get inundated with sexually explicit requests when there are no safeguards.  What happens instead is now the woman have to make the first move.  It might seem great in theory but it tends to make men think we are far more interested than we actually are.  I honestly have incredibly low expectations for any man I meet online.  I don’t expect much because I’ve been on so many bad dates.  The whole thing is a crapshoot.  Most times it’s just two strangers awkwardly trying to figure out a way to bolt and go home.  It’s no one’s fault, it’s just how dating random people tends to work out.

I never want to get married again.  I don’t want to move in with someone.  I’ve given up on having children. So rest assured I’m not planning our wedding.  I’m certainly not wondering how I’ll re-arrange my life when we move in together and I’m not naming our future children.  What I do want is to physically go out with someone and see them on a semi-regular basis.  My bar is low.   I don’t think any man is perfection personified.  I’ve been married and divorced.  There’s no way I would ever fall for anyone instantly.   If you are a decent human being, treat me well and we have even scant chemistry I’ll probably want to go out with you again.  That’s it.  That’s as deep as this ocean gets when I barely know someone.

Since I’ve been single I’ve had more requests for virtual sex than the real thing.  I’ve been asked to drop everything on a moment’s notice to hookup with some guy in the middle of the night.   I get solicitations for nude photos before I’ve even been intimate with a man.  I guess that’s just expected now since we all have mirrors and we all have phones.  

I AM BEYOND SICK OF THIS NONSENSE.

Your offers of no strings attached casual sex are about as common and inviting as the blackened pieces of chewing gum pounded into any subway platform.  I love sex but I also like knowing the person a little before I have sex with them.  I want to go see movies, have a meal or maybe go for a hike.  I want to share my day with them and ask them how their day went.  That’s it.  I’m not asking for much here.

When I’ve tried to just park it and let men take the lead on those dating sites basically nothing happens.  No one asks me out.  I get no email.  I just wonder why this got so difficult.  I don’t know what happened to dating.  I don’t understand how I’m supposed to interact in a world full of confusing text messages, sexting and booty calls.

I just want and crave actual human interaction more than I could possibly express here.  So sorry men of New York City I’m not really into you.  I don’t care how much money you make or where you work.  I don’t give a rat’s ass if you have some sort of award or if you’re famous.  The fact that you are published or work for a hedge fund does not impress me.  I’d rather watch clips of Adam Driver or Jon Hamm and let my imagination wander than put up with this dehumanizing endeavor.   Why is this so hard?  I’ve given up trying to figure it out.  I’m just screaming into the void at this point.  Dating as we know it is dead and for some reason I just keep going to funerals expecting the corpse to jump up and start dancing.

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Dating After Divorce: On Turning Feral…

A couple of years ago while watching a documentary I discovered a house cat can revert to its natural state under the right circumstances. I imagined my obese ginger male going from his prescription canned cat food to hunting and feasting on rodents and birds. His once silky coat now matted with dirt and leaves. His fat haunches transformed into lean muscle.  Instead of dramatically crying for his supper twice a day, he’d hide in alleys and beneath parked cars avoiding contact with humans while ruling the night. As I stroked Otto’s fur I decided I’d was no longer single, I’d turned feral instead.

When I  went through a difficult divorce nine years ago I suspected my dating life would be difficult.  I had no idea it would become a soul-crushing, near impossible endeavor.  Right out of the gate, I had two fairly tragic rebound relationships that imploded almost as soon as they’d started. Online dating felt more like an exercise in attrition and increasingly lowered expectations.  I’d get the obligatory emails from men involved with BDSM – twice as many submissives than dominants. Couples would email me hoping I want to join in some three-way play. My inbox would overflow with email from men in other countries and far away states. Traveling business men would contact me late at night, expecting me to drop everything to run to their hotel room and be their unpaid prostitute.  Dates rarely materialized and if they did they were often two awkward people sitting across from each other with nothing in common but judgmental stares.  Men openly criticized me for my profession, the circumstances around my divorce, and pretty much every lifestyle choice I had made up until the point of meeting them. When I met men offline it seemed like the only interested parties were either married or so young they could easily be mistaken for my son. I’d also met guys who expected me to go home with them five minutes after meeting them. If I showed any hesitation at all I was quickly forgotten for the next random woman who would say yes.

When I showed interest in anyone I was usually treated like a completely crazy person. I realize I’m not every man’s dream woman.  I have a big personality.  I talk a lot.  I’m so nerdy that I can blather for hours about the rise of fascism or the madness of Kaiser Wilhelm II. I won’t know anything about the latest movie that came out but I could tell you more than you’d ever want to know about the life of Nikola Tesla or how mutations take hold in a genome.  I’m opinionated and stubborn.  I will disagree and challenge men often and openly.  For amusement I get onstage and yell at total strangers in darkened basements that are masquerading as makeshift comedy clubs.  I’m a sledgehammer of truth.  Some folks find my qualities charming while others, find them incredibly annoying. My natural nemesis seems to be the classic khaki wearing, boat shoed finance bro alpha male. On multiple occasions I’ve found myself in screaming matches with a half drunk, angry day trader minutes after meeting them.

I’m also not all that interested in finding my dream man.  I have massive trust issues and pretty much assume every man is lying to me from the moment they open their mouth.  Because my ex-husband was a closeted gay man I pretty much assume all men are gay until proven otherwise.  Any nurturing qualities left in me were stamped out by my dysfunctional and broken marriage.  I don’t want to fix a man, pay his rent, make him forget his last girlfriend or guide him through rehab.  If he’s not ready to wear I’ll just toss him back on the pile.  I have zero interest in being an unpaid and untrained psychotherapist. There’s no part of me that longs to hang out with people I can’t stand because they’re friends with my partner.  I don’t want to sit through plates of hot wings and beer when I’d rather have vegetarian Chinese takeout. If he’s wounded and broken, I’ll leave him for someone who can handle wounded and broken.  I’ve got a freight train worth of emotional baggage and a hair-trigger that will cause me to bolt the second I sense danger.  If a man blanks me on a text, I will delete them from my phone.
I’ll leave my apartment with glasses, messy hair, ball caps and dirty jeans.  No fucks are given.  I watch my weight like a hawk because I have to for my industry but I honestly don’t care if someone finds me “pretty.”

I’ve got no online dating profiles. I waste no glances as men walk by. I pose no questions about a man’s dating status.

I live in an apartment the size of an average single car garage. My 450 square foot space is so small that no man would look at it and see an inch for his belongings. There’s no spare drawer or extra closet space. If I was actually trying to date I’d issue parking rules on my front door. – Four hour minimum or mandatory tow.

I look forward to my future as I grow increasingly strange and eccentric.  I’ll become the 60-year-old with blue hair who still wears Doc Martens and has birthday parties for my cats.  The lack of companionship has caused entire sections of my personality to atrophy and die.  I encourage others now to eschew the label of single and embrace the feral mindset.  We are no longer waiting for our Mr. or Mrs. Right, we are hunting proverbial birds and mice in the night and loving every second of it.

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Dating in NYC: He says he’s Single. He’s anything but.

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I’ve been single now for about eight years straight since my divorce.  In that time I’ve had a few short-lived relationships but for the most part I’ve flown solo.  I’ve discovered the hard way that the term “single” means a lot of different things to different people.  This city is so large and so densely populated it seems some can’t help but constantly see a never-ending array of choices for potential partners.  I’ve had so many men bold-faced lie to my face regarding this issue that I’m tempted to hand them a survey, and tape the entire exchange so when they say

I never said I was single

I won’t really do that but it’s frustrating that I feel like I have to ask questions like a prosecutor in order to get the truth out of some random dude on a date.

So what does it mean to be “single” in the city that never sleeps?  I’m not including polyamorous or non-monogamous men in this list because they tend to be incredibly upfront and honest about their relationships status.  This is for about the “single” boys who just like to blur the truth.

Single Single: You aren’t having sex with anyone on a regular basis.  You try to date but nothing seems to work out.  You mostly hang out with your friends and maybe watch porn.

Mostly Single: You are casually seeing someone. You’ve hooked up countless times, you socialize together and most of your friends consider you a couple.  Although you’ve both being seeing each other on a regular basis for months neither of you like “labels” and you’re not sure if she’s having sex with other men or not.  You take photos of your friend and post them on social media but never with yourself as a couple.  Even though she’s met your parents and you’ve taken trips together she’s DEFINITELY NOT your girlfriend and as far as you’re concerned you’re 100% single.  You flirt with other women and lead them on, but usually stop short of hooking up with them.

Single on Facebook Single: You’ve been dating someone for months now, you just haven’t bothered to change your relationship status update on Facebook yet.

Friends With Benefits Single: You’ve got a rotation of women that you text on the weekends and late at night for sex.  You like them alright but you’re hoping none of them get too clingy or text you too much. All of these women know they aren’t the only one in your life and you are NOT serious about any of them.  There’s one gal on your list who you tend to text more often and dump all your emotional garbage on them.  For now she puts up with it.  If she starts telling you too much about her life you’re out.  You’re still hoping to find that perfect someone if she exists at all.

Tinder Single: You like to have sex with lots of women, but usually only once. Tinder is your favorite method of hooking up. You sometimes accidentally swipe right on a girl you’ve already banged. Things can get awkward. You’ve also learned it’s better to call women by a pet name since you’ll forget their name seconds after meeting them. They all become honey or babe to you, if you even bother to have a conversation before or after sex.  You’re definitely single but single for life.

We Broke Up I Swear Single: You broke up with your girlfriend months ago but you’re both on a lease and finding a new apartment in tricky in Brooklyn. Neither of you would say you’re dating. You’ve even got a couple of roommates but since this is a three bedroom apartment, that means one of you has to sleep on the couch and there have been plenty of late nights when you’ve ended up hooking up again.  You still fight so it’s a bad situation but it’s only temporary and for the moment you’re looking for love!  Maybe you’ll end up moving in with your next girlfriend.

I’m totally over Her Single: The love of your life just left you. OK she didn’t just leave you it’s been almost two years but you’re TOTALLY over her. Sure you still have every photo you’ve ever taken together on your social media accounts, and yes you still constantly bring her up but you are TOTALLY over her.  You still call her mom from time to time but her mom is a really nice woman.  You’d do the same thing!   Last weekend you helped her move into a new apartment and assembled most of her furniture.  She knows she can call you at any time of the day or night but you are OVER HER.  She’s a great and beautiful person and it just didn’t work out and you wish her nothing but the best.

I’m a Liar I’m not Single: You tell women you’re single because you want to have sex with them.  You’re a married man or you’ve had the same partner for years and have kids with her.  According to the tax code you’re single but by just about every other metric you are very much one half of a couple.

My category – Feral Single – I’ve been single for so long now I don’t know if it’s possible for me to have a relationship anymore.  I LOVE living alone.  I never want to compromise on anything or make any major decisions in my life again that involve another person.  I’ve gone feral.  Like a former house cat who was once fed and cared for I now survive by my wits.  After a long hard day I come home vent on Facebook and talk to my cats.  I’ve become the ultimate loner – self-sufficient, wily, and not likely to be tamed any time soon.

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Top 10 reasons why Being Single on Valentine’s Day is the Greatest!

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1. CHEAP CANDY DAY – I actually think this needs to become a real holiday that happens twice a year.  Once on February 15th and then again on November 1st.  I know the candy makers will figure this out and find a way to screw us, but for now they are both splendid days indeed!

2. No gifts to buy! –  What does a woman  buy a man for Valentine’s Day? Most just want sex, and well that’s usually going to happen anyway….anything else just seems silly, yet the expectation is there.  For men the whole gift/night to remember situation is not only daunting but expensive.  In New York City a couple could blow $1,000 on an ice cream sundae, and that doesn’t include the Broadway show tickets!

3. No pressure to act like you’re having a great time when you’re not – We’ve all been there.  Our partner’s plan out some elaborate event and absolutely everything is dreadful.  The restaurant is too crowded, the waiter is mean, the food is lousy, the concert is terrible, the moonlight carriage ride is smelly and the driver is rude.  Meanwhile you have to pretend like it’s the greatest night of your life, because you don’t want to her anyone’s feelings.

4. No poorly timed monthly visitors – There’s nothing worse than planning a big romantic evening only to have Ms. Flow show up early.  Sure you can work around it but she really does ruin the mood, especially if she brings along her friend – Ms. Cramps.

5. No annoying flower battles at work – I don’t have a traditional job, but I remember when I did how the never-ending bouquets would come pouring in the office all day long.  It seemed like the bigger the flower arrangement the more precarious the relationship. Sure the married women with 20 years under their belt would get a sizable display but the couples that kept breaking up only to get back together again always included several mylar heart-shaped balloons.  Then there was always some sad sack in the office who had a boyfriend but who didn’t get anything.  She’d tell everyone it was waiting for her at home, but we knew that her boyfriend would break her spirit as much as her soul-crushing job did every day.

6. No expectations of some life-changing event – No one is going to propose to me! I’ll never have a joint bank account again!!!  I won’t have to worry about checks bouncing because my husband just blew several hundred dollars on something stupid!  I’m sure plenty of divorced men can relate to this one.  Blowing money on stupid purchases is a universal human trait!

7. No awkward sexual experiences – Sometimes couples like to push the envelope on the big day and take things too far, only to find themselves in compromising or embarrassing situations.  The porn actors make it look so easy, but they’ve got multiple takes, a crew to help them with angles and lighting. Ask anyone who works in film or television production, it’s all about good lighting.

8. No drunken crying spirals of despair – With expectations so high, also comes disappointment.  Anything could happen. What if you happen to find out  that he’s cheating on you?  Or that you’re NOT getting engaged even though he’s been hinting at it for months?  Or what if in the middle of the salad course, you just look into his eyes are realize you can’t stand him, he can’t stand you anymore and you’d both be better off on your own.  These things happen.  Then you end up slamming a few back, and wind up calling your best friend at 3 AM to tell her that everything you believed in was a lie and that the universe is collapsing in on you.

9. No forced emotion – There’s nothing worse than hitting Valentine’s Day with a guy you’ve just started dating.  Should he send flowers or will it make him look overeager?  Should you make big plans, even though you haven’t even been to his apartment yet?  Should you buy him something or will it make you look like a stage 5 clinger?  If you’ve only been on three dates or less, just act like February 14th is a day like any other and skip right over it.

10. FREEDOM – You can REALLY just watch Netflix and chill.  Throw on a onesize, order some Chinese takeout and watch a marathon of Breaking Bad, The Making of a Murder, or maybe season 2 of Orange is The New Black again.  Everyone knows season 2 is the best season.  You don’t have to get dressed up, impress anyone, fake an orgasm, or act like you care about some dumb ass chef’s special that you know is overpriced and overrated.  You can dance around in footie pajamas and stuff your face with General Tso’s Chicken if you want. (I eat the vegetarian version)  It’s your day!  LOVE IT!

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When Love Poetry, a Sex Shop and Bloggers meet for Lunch

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A couple of weeks ago I got in invitation by the good people of Adam&Eve.com, a one time sponsor of this blog, to attend a love poetry workshop taught by local writer, Suzannah Weiss.  I debated if I should go, since poetry and me aren’t really a thing.  I dig poetry and all but I would hardly call myself a poet.  The idea of writing a love poem really left me at a loss.  Could I write a love poem about the despair of abject loneliness? Could I pen a sonnet about how much I hate dating in New York City, or the profound narcissism of my ex-husband?  It might work if they let me write about dick picks and magical vaginas, but then I noticed they were giving out gift bags and the deal was sealed.  How could I not go?  I had to get my gift bag of swag from a sex shop, just to see what they’d give me.

The morning of the event, I had a fiasco with one of my day jobs that I absolutely had to deal with so I arrived fashionably late to the love poetry-sex shop-soiree.  Once there, I felt a bit like the slacker who showed up tardy for class, but I was quickly forgiven.  Our teacher, Suzannah Weiss was kind and patient and even had me read a poem I had written on the spot.  I openly admitted I wrote it about my cat Schatzi, since I have no other inspiration in my life.  If you knew Schatzi, you’d write poems about her too.

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Nearly all of the other bloggers were women, and many of them cat owners so it turned into a flurry of cat photo sharing and stories about our feline companions..

I met a lovely woman who named her blog New York Cliche, because much like myself she was just owning her single, professional, artistic, cat-owning, independent woman persona. I also connected with a long-time Facebook friend fellow writer and general overall badass Yolanda Shoshana.

Then we finally got the goody bags…..and this is what they contained!

A sexy feather duster, you know for all of your sexy feather duster needs…

featherduster

 

A BDSM mask, although honestly I could use this on trips in rooms with too much light. It’s comfy, and thicker than most.

EyeMask

A tiny cock ring, and another vibrating cock ring type of device.  Free condoms – that’s usually a given as everyone should practice safe sex!

CockRings

A water based personal lubricant! – We could all use some more lube in our lives.  A silver bullet! BATTERY INCLUDED! – Most ladies know this is a very special thing indeed.

Lube

I admit I was hoping for a dildo, not because I wanted to use it, but because dildos are comedy gold.  They’re probably too expensive to give away to bloggers, and a bit forward.  “Here’s a fake penis for your enjoyment” is coming on a bit strong I guess. Overall I thought the entire experience was amazing!  I don’t think I’ll become a poet any time soon, or write a love sonnet to anyone besides my cat.  A woman working for a PR firm called me a journalist, which was sort of wonderful.  I also got to meet fellow New Yorkers who have also found their voice online.  Although I am not a huge consumer of sex toys or adult products I have heard wonderful things about www.Adam&Eve.com, so if you are in the market for some sexy stuff for Valentine’s Day or any day, check them out.

Here’s my Valentine’s Haiku (At least I think it’s a Haiku, again, I’m not a poet)

I don’t want dick pics

I’d like a piece of your soul

or just a kind word

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Dating in New York City: The Rat Race Redefined.

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Months before I moved to New York City I made the mistake of watching a documentary about rats in the city.  I learned rats could chew right through cement and squeeze their entire bodies through holes no bigger than the size of their skulls. Rats must constantly gnaw on anything in order to keep their always-growing teeth a manageable size.  Their jaw muscles exert a shocking 12 tons of pressure per square inch.  Rats spread disease, fleas and cause fires from chewing through electrical wiring.  In moments of extreme stress they attack each other and will even resort to cannibalism.   After that film, the mere sight of a battle-scarred super-sized rodent with a flesh tail would cause my heartbeat to quicken and stomach to churn.  I found myself in fits of panic if they got more than a few feet from me.

When my ex and I moved from Brooklyn to Washington Heights we discovered a fairly developed rat nest in the roots of a tree in the sidewalk.   In the rats would scurry from their nest across the sidewalk and into the alley of a building two doors down from our own.  We’d hear screams of people who had made the mistake of walking on our side of the street night after night.  My ex-husband counted as many as 20 rats at a time in the courtyard of our neighboring building.  We’d watch in despair as they would chew perfect tunnels through solid concrete the city poured over their nest..  Animal control repeatedly set poison traps, and laid wife mesh over the concrete and nothing seemed to stop them.

Then one night, out of nowhere my reaction towards the monstrous creatures changed.  I was coming home late at night after a comedy gig and saw one, all by himself sniffing around the subway platform searching for food.  He had half of a tail and large patches of baldness along with matted fur.  This rat wasn’t doing so well, and for the first time I saw desperation in his movements.  He just didn’t run around like every other rat I’d ever seen before, he seemed panicked and fearful.

I couldn’t help but see a part of myself in this poor dying creature.  When I first moved here, I was one half of a couple.  I had dreams and ambitions that always included the man I thought was the love of my life.  Fourteen years later after the terrorist attack on 9-11, a city-wide blackout, Hurricane Sandy, a devastating divorce, the premature death of too many friends, suicidal thoughts and crippling depression I found myself alone.  I’m not as young as I once was, my reproductive capacity shrinks by the minute and I’m deeply damaged.   In order to pay my bills I work constantly.  Some weeks I might get one day off, or work nonstop without a break for days on end.

There are those who criticize me for choices I’ve made, things I’ve written or said, and my “bad” attitude.  Of course they have no idea what goes on in my head, or how difficult it might be to come back after such a devastating loss.  Things haven’t completely healed and in the past six years I’ve rarely felt strong emotion towards a man for any extended period of time.  I don’t know if I’ll live the rest of my days alone.  In many ways surviving after the breakup has been harder than the split itself.  One day turns into another and nothing changes.

I get harassed on a daily basis with men leering at me, shouting out filth, blocking my path or even grabbing me on the street.   Most of the guys who express interest in me only want sex, and will literally not even touch me after the fact.  It’s as if I’ve left the room and might as well leave, which is usually what I do anyway.  I’ve numbed myself enough to stand it, and swallowed pride and emotions with the increasing dexterity.  If that’s what I need to do to survive then so be it., I survive, but only barely.

So when I looked at that rat, desperately hunting for food, doing nothing more but trying to make it to the next day I felt empathy for his plight.  I didn’t want to go near the poor animal, and I’m not kidding myself about wild urban rats. They’re a dangerous scourge, the city is right to try to eradicate them and control their numbers.  Regardless he was still a little life who never did anything but try to make it to the next day.  For reasons beyond his control he was born into a crowded metropolis and will probably die of starvation, poison, or at the teeth of another rat soon enough.  For the first time in my life, I had compassion for something I had once reviled.  Chances are he never ate another rat, or attacked a human, he was probably just an average rat living off a garbage and dodging subway cars.   I sat down on a bench a safe distance away from him and watched his darting and scheming until the next train came.

As much as I’ve been through, and as hard as things get, my struggles and pain have been a gift.  Had I stayed married and enjoyed the success of my ex-husband’s thriving career I might have never found empathy and compassion for that sad little animal.  I would take what I had for granted, and failed to see that every new day is truly a blessing.  I had to lose everything to become more human.  My life might not get easier for many years to come, or it could change in an instant. I’m just happy I’m still here and I don’t fear the rats anymore.

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Dating in NYC: Love and Real Estate

I’ve lived in New York City now for fourteen years. I’ve been single for the past six, and I started searching for a co-op about a year ago. I couldn’t help but notice the eerie similarities between hunting for real estate and looking for love. Both are rare and precious commodities. New York City’s vacancy rate hovers around 3% and never goes above 5%.  About 3/4 of all apartments are rentals, leaving only the remaining 1/4 available to buy.  Most of the apartments on the market are co-ops that require financial gymnastics, and approval of an overly scrutinizing board. Even if you find an apartment in your budget you still have to get  80% financing and then impress upon your soon to be potential neighbors that you’re a low risk addition to their building.

Dating here is not much better, especially for single women.  New York City has 150,000 more single women than single men.  It might not seem like a huge number in a city of 8 million but it’s enough to throw off the odds a bit.  To make things worse most New Yorkers work long hours, live scattered over five boroughs and have little disposable income to throw away at dating. I’ve found it’s best to not get too emotionally attached to any one partner or property.

I once was the only person to show up at an open house for a cute prewar newly renovated studio in prime condition. Just as I was about to start the long and arduous process of making an offer, an all cash buyer walked in before I had a signed contract and snapped the property out from under me.  I watched in horror as the same scenario happened again with other properties.  In dating, I’ve had a few amazing dates with men who seemed almost perfect only to have them vanish without explanation.  My text messages went un-answered, my emails ignored and I never knew the reason.

I couldn’t help but see the similarities and the heartache that went with both, so I devised a glossary of sorts of common terms used in NYC real estate listings and how they equate with the dating scene in New York City.

Prime Location = Is the trip between Astoria and Bushwick worth it? Can a man in the Bronx find love with a woman in Staten Island? Is Queens to New Jersey even possible? Finding someone on the same subway line = prime location

Low Maintenance Costs = Cheap date

All Cash Buyer = Partners that offer everything up all at once with very little drama and no strings attached. The downside is they could flip you. Just as quickly as they find you attractive, they’ve moved on. They can just as easily make another offer as quickly as they made the first.

Unit has pre-existing long term tenant = Married.

Board Approval Required = Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, LinkedIn – everything dissected and analyzed for risk assessment. Are you friend’s with an ex? Is your job stable? Do you post NSFW videos, sports clips or cat memes? How many friends do you have? Are your tweets too personal or do you post political rants? Do you change your status update 20 times a day? Do you hardly ever check your profile? Are your photos of landscapes, or of your family

No Board Approval Sponsor Sale = The person either doesn’t know how to use the internet or doesn’t care. No questions asked as long as you fit the criteria. You are dealing with a risk taker or at last someone over 50 who doesn’t understand this thing called “the internet.”

Move in Condition = Easy going personality, no glaring compatibility issues, similar hobbies and interests.

Needs TLC = Major emotional baggage – divorce, nasty breakups, children from a previous marriage. – Anything that might need fixing or at least managed.

Pet Friendly = Deal breakers or selling points depending on your allergies or your furry friends.

Building has Bad Financials = A date has bad financials – no job, huge debt, poor credit

Seller is Seeking All Cash Buyer = Just someone looking to hookup

Lack of Inventory = Are you a woman over 35? Then you know exactly what this means. Most men in your age group are married or at least coupled up. You’re going to have to look a lot harder for what you want, or settle for someone much younger or older.  It’s not as a big of a problem for men.  If you’re wondering why, it’s called babies, biological clocks and a patriarchal culture that values younger women over older.   Although no one is immune, both genders can have unrealistic age standards when it comes to dating.

As impossible as the New York Real estate market is right now, I’ve had far more luck finding a new apartment, then a partner.  Let me rephrase that for emphasis.  I’ve actually had an easier time finding an affordable apartment in a year than I have finding a partner in the nearly six years I’ve been divorced.  I’m not even kidding.  In my search for an apartment I had the help of an attorney and real estate agent.  I also looked EVERYWHERE from the far reaches of Brooklyn, to Queens, upper Manhattan and even parts of the Bronx.  I called and emailed at one point about 25-30 agents and saw as much property as I could possibly fit into my schedule.  There wasn’t much on the market in my price range but I viewed everything within reason.

I’ve basically tried the same approach to dating in that at this point I’ve probably been on at least 25-35 dates.  Most have been awkward and painful and a few men have had full blown meltdowns.  I’ve been out with men who complained about their ex-wives the whole time, bragged about their drug use, openly insulted me, or expected sex on the first date.   The vast majority of emails I’ve gotten on online dating websites have been from men under age 25 or guys looking for no strings attached sex.  Most of them men who do contact me never follow through with a date. So far nothing has worked, and I haven’t gone out with anyone for more than two or three dates in over five years.

For now, I’ll just settle for the apartment of my dreams rather than any prince charming.  Real estate is more stable anyway, it won’t have a midlife crisis and leave me for a younger seller, develop a substance abuse problem, grow mean and bitter and blame me for all it’s shortcomings, develop a gambling or ignore me and go play golf.  It may not cuddle at night but it will increase in value, and in the end I might get lucky and unload it to an all cash buyer.  I certainly couldn’t ask for such certainty with a new boyfriend.

My whole real estate search also made me ask some questions about myself.  I’m definitely a pet friendly unit with good financials and low maintenance, but one that needs some TLC.  I’d also say my board is fairly strict and rather picky of any potential candidate but the opportunity for a long-term investment is solid.  Now, if I could just find the right buyer, I’d be all set.

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Top 10 Rules for Dating in New York City

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It’s been five years since my marriage completely disintegrated.  I found myself suddenly thrust back into the dating pool at age 36.  My single friends tried to warn me, but I honestly had no choice.  My marriage was dead and there was no saving it.  I made every dating mistakes a few times.  I’ve evolved from overly emotional, clingy and starry-eyed to cynical, jaded and emotionally bereft.  I keep hoping things will get better, but they never improve.  I’ve tried online dating to no avail.  Most of the guys online never follow through with dates, so I find myself carving out precious time only to resort to sitting in a coffee shop by myself or watching House of Cards on Netflix when my date cancels.  You know it’s bad when you think to yourself that doing business is easier than dating in this town.  I’ve honestly been treated better in most professional relationships, than I ever have been in romantic ones.

So I’ve devised this list.  It pretty much encapsulates what’s become of dating in the city that never sleeps.  From what I’ve heard this across the board for men and women of all sexual orientations and gender identifications.

How to Date in NYC


1. Lower your expectations – I’ve gone from thinking “Maybe I’ll get remarried someday” to “Just answer a simple text message, I only sent you one in the past three days.”


2. Become numb – Get rid of all of your highs and lows as they will not serve you.


3. Show no weaknesses – Don’t let on your hopes and fears too soon.  Show no signs of insecurity.  These things can come later, but since this person probably won’t stick around for any length of time, they don’t need to know any of this.  Put your game face on and keep it on.


4. Expect rude behavior – If you send a simple “What’s up?” text, do not expect a response.  This is after you’ve been out with the person and seen them check their phone every ten minutes. Expect last minute cancellations, constant excuses for why they aren’t available and angry rants about ex-partners.  These are all par for the course.


5. Completely give up on the notion of age appropriate – I’m hit on by men as young as 18 up to around 27 or 28, then the next largest demographic is mid-fifties.  I can’t explain this, but I’ve given up trying.  I just go with what’s offered.


6. Google everyone – Knowledge is power.  Don’t stop at google.  Youtube, Facebook, Twittter even Instagram hold few secrets.


7. Trust no one – Because we live in a city of strangers, a person has to earn your trust before you just believe anything they tell you.  “I had to work” could easily mean – “I was hooking up with one of my other regulars” You might eventually trust your partner, but until then, take what they say with a grain of salt.  Note inconsistencies, never assume they are legit.


8. Get used to the phrase – “I’m just so busy” – You’ll say this yourself.  But you will also hear it as an excuse for everything.


9. Get used to the phrase – “Oh but you live so far away.” New York City is a big town.  We sometimes meet in the middle of this Metropolis in Manhattan.  Only later do we realize that a Bronx to Queens commute is just impractical.  Although some expect to put in absolutely no effort whatsoever.  Basically they will only consider dating you on a regular basis if you live two or three stops away on the same subway line they take every day.


10. Have fun with showing off your dick pic collection, and you’ll get one…trust me you’ll get one. – I don’t know if there is a lesbian or straight woman equivalent, or if this phenomena is as common with every sexual orientation.  I only know that straight women and gay men easily collect dick pics and full frontal nudes. I’ve scrolled through dozens in my gay friend’s phones. I’ve gotten several and I never once requested – “Please send me a photo of your cock. Preferably a self-portrait taken with your phone.  A bathroom shot would really be something special!”  I’ve also gotten requests for photographs of body parts or my mouth wrapped around dildos and various objects.  I’ve never complied. Who said romance was dead?


11. Accept your fate as a crazy cat lady/eccentric bachelor. – I know this brings us to eleven.  For men I guess the crazy cat lady equivalent is the weirdo eccentric bachelor.  We all know a few.  The guys who never got married and have that apartment just full of strange things from their youth.  It’s small and rent stabilized and they’ve lived there for years.  They’ll probably die there but they won’t be eaten by their pet cats, instead someone might stumble upon their mummified corpse after neighbors complain of the smell or they are a final no-show for their eviction in housing court.  I hope that’s not my fate, but things aren’t looking so good lately.

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Dating in NYC: Dating in the Land of Zero Effort

 

Online dating profiles reduce humans to commodities.  Instead of nuanced individuals with provoking personalities, we transform into a collection of photos and vital stats such as: height, age, body type, diet preferences, religion, political views and our favorite books and movies.  In New York City online dating profiles should just include a few photos and a zip code, because honestly that’s all that really matters for so many singles.  If you live in Brooklyn, trying to date a person in Queens could be considered a long-distance relationship. Staten Island and the Bronx might as well be in other states, and New Jersey is the vortex.  It seems much easier to get into the Garden State then it does to get back.  Even though over 19 million people live in the New York City metro area, commuting via subways, buses and cramped highways is challenging.  Even when I meet men offline, most conversations start like this:

Guy: “Where do you live?”

Me: “Brooklyn”

Guy: “What neighborhood?”

Me: “Flatbush”

And then I see the facial expression that says everything I need to know.  Their eyes will squint, their brow will cease and it looks like they just smelled some week old Indian food.  No one has ever lit up and smiled after hearing it.  Some men have actually broken off the conversation after the word ‘Flatbush’ and walked away.  They’re hardly subtle about their complete disdain for my section of NYC.  On online dating services, things are much worse.  One man went so far as to indicate on his profile, he was only willing to consider ladies who lived on the “L” train, or within a short biking distance.

According to the latest census estimates here is how the city breaks down

  • Brooklyn     2,565,635
  • Queens       2,272,771
  • Manhattan   1,619,090
  • Bronx           1,408,473
  • Staten Island   470,728

Given the odds, I should have the easiest time of it.  The problem is Brooklyn is huge and the subway system doesn’t easily connect every neighborhood.  So to get to Mr. L train, I would have to jump on the Q train, take it into Manhattan, then transfer to the L train and take it back into Brooklyn.  My journey would last an hour maybe 45 minutes, which is just too long for most folks in this metropolis.  The Bronx and Staten Island are like different countries to me, and my commute to some parts of Queens could take over two hours.  When a guy hits me up and lives in New Jersey, he’d better live in Hoboken, Jersey City or another part of NJ that is easily accessible via public transportation.

I’m not a huge fan of my neighborhood as it has a higher crime rate than others and is a bit farther out from Manhattan, but my rent is much cheaper and my apartment is larger than most.  By most Manhattanite standards, my ‘hood is the middle of nowhere.   From what I’ve found the most ideal location is Manhattan, as its central location makes it easier for anyone in the outer boroughs.  Although anywhere above 125th Street is the mysterious hidden borough called ‘Northern Manhattan’.  Just as it’s more difficult to get furniture delivered to neighborhoods like Washington Heights, Inwood and Spanish Harlem, it’s also harder to get anyone to travel to the far reaches of the Island.

I guess I just magically need to make more money so I can afford to live in one of the most expensive places on earth.  I’m not expecting much, I just get sick of always being stuck at home with my cats watching “House of Cards” on Netflix.   In my neighborhood I’m mostly hit on by teenage drug dealers.  I’m not speculating on their illegal activity, I’ve seen them openly sell drugs right in front of me.  The average age of the guys who yell “Hey Baby” at me is about 16.  Since Flatbush is hardly hip, most of the age appropriate men who live here are very much married or living with someone.  I just don’t find a lot of single men age 35-45 anywhere, but I especially don’t run into them in my part of Brooklyn.

I think this is why those hook-up apps like tinder are so popular.  They really do take away all effort completely.  Want free sex from a somewhat attractive female who is easily accessible, in more ways than one?  Just swipe right and hope she does the same.  I still refuse to get that desperate, until then I will remain in Flatbush and hope that somehow a guy might want to ride the train for more than 20 minutes to see me.  Or maybe I’ll get a job managing a hedge fund tomorrow and move to a mansion in the Hamptons. When I live in my sprawling estate I can pick up guys at the local tennis court, or while riding the ponies in a co-ed polo match.  Anything is possible I guess.

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