Dating in New York City is a complicatedly hungry monster. While I could begrudgingly package my life into a Sex-and-the-City doppleganging experience, it would not be an accurate reflection of my current situation. I don't eat quinoa, I never get my 8 hours, I drink more liquor than water, and the average life expectancy for my tights is two days. In reality, I don't feel like the spunky 'vivacious 20-something' that I literally am. The denial is real, and so it the impending doom that is my childhood/current diet finally bitch-slapping my body.
This city is dripping with unabashedly confident, successful women with impeccable fashion sense and the affinity for winning the gene lottery. While this utopian society is heaven for the woman-drooling population, the luck doesn't tend to tip evenly the other way. The ratio of men to women in New York City is 3-to-1, much like the ratio of times I fall in love with a stranger per subway ride.
Being a self-proclaimed metrosexual inamorata provides me with an abundance of embarassingly awkward sexually-ambiguous situations. The Game is to figure out if the perfectly coiffed hair and the strategically slightly-over-tailored trousers are meant to attract the male or female population. Is it too much to ask to not-so-seriously date a satorically aware male who maintains peak scruffage, rounds out at a strong 6-foot-4 inches, and doesn't wear running shoes with toes?
The question is, if this city is The City of Singles, then how does one maximize profits? Does one acquire straight-across bangs slightly too short for their face and move to Williamsburg to date The Man-Bun-Flannel they saw on the L train this morning? Does one invest in a Juice Press rewards program and suffer through the occasional hot yoga overheating to satisfy The Equinox-Gluten-Free-Yuppie whom you stalk on his shamelessly self-promoting Instaram account?
Can tastes transcend stereotypes? If, as New York City residents, we all unwillingly drink the Kool-Aid, vowing to remain forcibly single until we are "reaching our success peak and at least 28, but, god forbid, no older than 30", then why don't we embrace our anti-nuptual lives and explore the plethora of unique dating options we have in the city?
