If you are a woman or a gay man of a certain age who lives in New York and you’re trying to find a partner, it may be time for you to head for the hills - literally.
New York is the cultural center of the United States. For those of us who are fortunate enough to live here, we are offered the best of everything - theater, the fine arts, museums, live music, cuisine from countries you’ve never even heard of - we have it all. However, if you are fortunate enough to live here and are a single woman or gay man, you also happen to be in the absolute worst place to find a mate in the country. While it may be the most populous of any city in the country, quantity more often than not does not equal quality. And while a night out with your girlfriends at the ballet may be the stuff dreams are made of, a night out on a terrible first date can sometimes feel like taking a trip into the Thunderdome.
For those of us who are not native New Yorkers or move to the city without a trust fund, reality strikes hard and fast. No matter what industry you’ve chosen to pursue, in New York the cream rises to the top and if you can’t step up to the occasion, you’ll most likely be lost in the pack. Pair that with the fact that New York is one of the most expensive places in the country to live, for most New Yorkers their job quickly becomes the most important part of their life - especially if they like things like food and a roof over their heads. New York is also a town that is ever changing - there is always a hot new show, restaurant or exhibit to check out because when you live in a city like this, you’re treated to the best in entertainment, cuisine and the arts. Everyone wants a ticket to Hamilton. However, most people who want to see it either don’t know what the show is about or don’t even know who Alexander Hamilton is. They just know that everyone else is raving about it and they need to see it for themselves and will pay whatever price necessary in order to get a ticket. It needs to be the best. It needs to happen now. It needs to happen fast.
So yeah, we’ve got it great here. But if it’s so great, why are so many of my girl and gay friends, in the prime of their lives with so much to offer still single? Why is New York the worst place in America to find a mate?
I truly adore the bright eyed and bushy tailed young lady or gay man (straight men you’re not included in this because like in every other aspect of your lives, you’ve got in made as far as dating in the city in concerned) who think that they are going to meet to love of their lives the second they step foot off the choo-choo. It’s the stuff movies are made of and quite frankly, movies lied to all of us. Dating in New York takes a certain amount of finesse, will-power and courage to preserver. Because in a city whose inhabitants expect the best of everything; they won’t settle for anything other than that when it comes to finding a mate.
But exactly what is the best? The girl with the best chest? The shirtless gay guy with the most Instagram followers? The lady with the nicest apartment? We are so consumed with having what we feel is the best that oftentimes, we can’t see what is right in front of us. Living in New York makes us almost childlike - someone presents something shinier in our faces and our attention immediately gravitates toward that. If we can afford the cost of dining at the best restaurant and doing the legwork it takes to get a table there, then we surely should be treated to the best of what the dating world has to offer as well. Oftentimes what is considered the best restaurant quickly becomes passé and it’s time to beg for reservations at the new hot spot in town. Could it be that we treat our relationships in the same way? Sometimes relationships grow stale and need to be spiced up - but in New York it’s more common to trade the old mate in for a newer, shinier model. I mean, my grandparents survived the Holocaust and the Great Depression and still made it work. Half of my friends could barely stay in relationships for the duration of the Rio Olympics. Times have changes, but because many of us who live in New York aren’t afforded a plethora of spare time, we tend to throw the baby out with the bathwater and can sometimes overlook the ones who truly love us because we don’t want to put in the time to make it work. We’re too busy at work or we don’t have enough time to catch up with friends or go to the gym. We put in so much time becoming the best in our field but for some reason, refuse to become the best in our relationship. And there’s always an absurd excuse as to why we decide we can’t make it work - his chest is too curly, her niece looks like a chipmunk and it makes me uncomfortable, his roommate is too much of a hipster - I have heard it all and none of it makes any sense. Something more exciting will surely come along right? Until you’re in your late fifties ordering Filipino hookers in the back of a karaoke bar on 38th Street. It all works out, doesn’t it?
The quantity of people in the city also greatly affects our chances of finding love - especially if you are a gay man. I love gay men. I am not one of those self-loathing gay men but we do have a tendency to have a “grass is always greener” mentality. The sheer amount of us here doesn’t help. We feel if something doesn’t work out then something better will always come along, but will it? Is sacrificing someone who loves you more than anything in the world for someone who has a nicer apartment than you do really worth it? There are so many of us in such a small proximity that we can sometimes think that if one doesn’t work out, another better one will come along - but will it? Gay men are also quite flaky when it comes to dating. I’m still waiting on about four guys who canceled on me last month to reschedule. Was there a mass alien abduction I wasn’t informed about or did everyone simply find something better to do? And no, I don’t want to be friends with you when you decided to resurface two months later. My friends call me back in a timely manner, not when they’re bored and want a handy. Our straight girlfriends of a certain age who want to have a family have it even worse. There is a clock ticking and it’s biological. While all of my wonderful straight girlfriends were working twice as hard as their male counterparts to become vice-president’s of companies or the heads of major fashion lines, they forfeited dating for a bit and now that they’re successful in their fields and want to start a family, they’re tasked with the endless merry-go-round of bad dates with guys in their late-thirties who still think they deserve a supermodel as a wife. It fucking sucks for us all.
Apps make things even worse. I’ve had Tinder on my phone for nearly a year, have over three-hundred matches and have had conversations with all of four people. One of them gave me a blowjob. Three of them planned dates with me, canceled and never rescheduled. So, while Tinder has been a wonderful virtual baseball card collection of random men who all live within a twenty minute radius of me, I have yet to find my MVP. Keep swiping right guys, you’re sure to find that one single super model who’s impressed by your eight dollar an hour job. Most dating apps link our social media profiles to the accounts so when we do end up meeting, all sense of wonder is lost. We don’t need to get to know each other now, because we’ve already found out everything we think we need to know about our potential spouse online. We live in New York, we don’t have time to ask questions, but we do have time to Google stalk on our lunch break at Hale and Hearty - and that’s because we love to multi-task. If we don’t like each other or get into a fight - we can simply block each other from all forms of communication. Because if you don’t exist on my phone, which is permanently in my hand, then you certainly don’t exist in real life anymore, right? Because we hide behind our phones when we date, we are also prone to say things we would never say to a potential mate in person. Where is the love though? Just because our phones are always in our hands, doesn’t mean we’re robots. We still have feelings, right? Finding a spouse is not a game, but it’s become one. We’re not bad people - we’re just insanely busy. Is there room in our busy schedule to have romance or have first dates all turned into conversations that seem like job-interviews?
I have lived in New York for nearly my entire adult life. I have published three books, have a rocking body and don’t need to cohabitate with four other people in a studio apartment in order to afford to live here. In the past year, I have been canceled on without a reschedule twenty-nine times (that’s an average of one canceled date every 10-12 days of the year.) I have never been in a serious relationship and not been cheated on. Either I am a piece of shit and don’t realize it or the city that constantly smells like a piece of shit is responsible for my current relationship status of single. Or, am I simply the frigging Mary Tyler Moore of the zeitgeist without all of the terrible dinner parties?
So what do we do in a city where everyone expects the best, few people are actually willing to work for it and everyone is looking for the next best thing? Get down on your hands and knees and pray to God (or whoever you pray to - I chose Britney Spears) that your knight or lady in shining armor will show up at your door. It’s not impossible; plenty of people who live in New York have found spouses. But those people had two full time jobs ― the one that brought home the bacon and the other that brought home the husband. If finding a mate is important to you then put in the hard work (because it’s hard in New York), don’t lose faith and never give up. Either that or move. I’m serious, every single gay man or straight woman I know who has left New York has gotten married within two years of their departure. If finding a husband or wife is your end-all-be-all goal, leave New York and never look back. There is something to be said for the romantic charm of autumn in New England or the cherry blossoms of spring in Washington. Those places also doesn’t smell like a dead homeless person in the summer.