I recently read an article on the Huffington Post website called Why Dating In New York Sucks (With Mathematical Proof!). From the article...Satoshi Kanazawa, an evolutionary psychologist from the London School of Economics says, "If you live in New York City you may meet a thousand people before you can start getting serious about finding a mate, so the larger the pool the more people you have to reject."
That isn't depressing at all. Somehow, I have to reject a thousand men or at least 37% right off the bat before I can begin seriously looking for a mate. Aside from the obvious "How is that possible?" and "So I should be a slut!" or "Yay! I've always wanted to increase my chances of being murdered or finally get a stalker!", I start to wonder. Given I have such a high number of men to disqualify, how can I speed things up or cut corners? This morning on the subway I was rejecting nameless men with my eyes. I counted 17 legal-aged men and 4 questionably young men/boys before I finally gave up. Math is not my strongest subject-it makes my head hurt.
This is especially frustrating seeing as I don't really like dating. It's a recipe for disaster. Not only do the guys turn out to be slightly less evolved or psycho, but the whole experience feels so contrived. Jesus! I just met you on the bus yesterday and now you expect me to tell you what I was like when I was 4? Ridiculous. Seriously, stop crying. No, you don't look like my ex. Did you draw on that mustache?
But this is Manhattan. Some times you gotta take one-or several-for the team. And sometimes you arrive at the restaurant, see your date being escorted out by security...and decide to make a fast getaway before they see you. True story. In my world, here's what happens if you decide to go on a date:
Date #1: Cute guy. Seems nice. Not completely stupid, decent manners, doesn't live with his parents. Cut to thirty minutes later..Oh, thanks for announcing you have Herpes while I'm eating my Marsala. Check please.
Date #2: Poor guy can't stop sweating. Oh ok, he's recognized someone at another table. Yeah, this is awkward. It's his ex and he's just told her she should "die from something infectious". Check please.
Date #3: This guy is funny. I'm sorry what? He's just spent the last 10 minutes talking about just how small his penis is. He says, "Seriously, you've never seen one smaller." I have to use a microscope and some tweezers...just to pee." Let me get my glasses...check please.
Date #4: Hot artist invites me over to his place for a quiet dinner. Steak was very nice. Roommate barging in with whiskey and skanks, not so nice. Wants to recreate a Motley Crue video after taking 3 shots of said whiskey...also not so nice. Finding out I have to call a car service to get back to Manhattan-irritating.
Date #5: So maybe I'm not ready to be a cougar. I can't understand what this guy is talking about. How old are you again? Is it safe to say I'll be paying for dinner?
So where does this leave me? My best promiscuous days are clearly behind me. I'm not sure I can rally.
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