Oh . . . dating. In NYC. In your twenties. It all kind of makes me cringe, and blush, and smile, and cry, and scream, and then cringe some more. It’s a topic that I haven’t really ever touched upon on this blog before! Why? Probably because everyone I’ve dated knows I blog, and . . . well, you know how that goes. But hey, I promised to be more honest on here, and all my friends have been telling me to start blogging about this topic more. And I’m not going to lie, I have some pretty rad/funny/sad/outrageous stories to tell. I probably can’t give all the details. But let me throw one known fact back out there . . . dating in NYC is whack. But without the whack, there is no fun, and no good stores to share and grow from. So here we go. Dating. ugh. ha. Where to start?
Once I entered the real working world and made all these goals for myself and put my career before anything else, I made a promise to myself to never be the type of girl who would ever really NEED a boyfriend. I’ve always prided myself on being independent, driven and fully self-supportive. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE GUYS. Good guys. Someone who can make me laugh with a smile so beautiful that it makes me feel like my best self. And I have a lot of fun on dates (most of the time). But being in a relationship was never the END ALL, THIS IS IT for me. My world of work, friends, travel, creativity . . . as long as I had that, a guy not fitting in with the situation was just fine with me. There would always be a boy on the back burner when I needed one, but anyone who verged close on serious . . . I’d always end up finding something to make him less and less perfect. And a lot of times my friends would tell me, that that was my problem. This guy would be perfect, but I’m not giving him the attention he needed or wanted. It just flew over my head. And then done, the relationship was over. Maybe because I was selfish. Maybe because I was scared. Maybe because I wasn’t ready to sacrifice my space and parts of my life that have always been taken my full dedication and focus and passion. No matter how great the guy was, how thoughtful, how wonderful, how giving . . . he could never be as great as whatever else I had going on. Or he didn’t really get or understand the other things I held high in my life. Or it’s the other way around from how it usually is . . . where I’m really into someone, but I’m not high enough on their priority list to feel like pursuing any sort of actual commitment. So I just give up and let it die. I’ve been in many a situation where I gave up a lot for a person, and in the end received nothing back. Just unfulfilled hope and promise. And I would grind into my head the idea that it wasn’t worth it to fully put myself in that position again. But then, when will I ever really know if it’s worth it? Will I ever allow anyone to be THE ONE? I’m still trying to figure that one out.
But still, the idea of TRUE LOVE ignites me. Always will. I’ve always been very open to it when it flat out presented it to me. And despite the independent woman chant that I stick by on the regular and with much vigor, I do (often) at times fall under it’s spell, fully taken and gone. A whirlwind of days or weeks or months of being starry-eyed and so much less focused on myself but only on the other person. But so far, from my experience living and falling in and out of love in NYC, I have yet to come out unscathed. One of us steps back, one of us gets hurt, or we both are fearful of losing ourselves and our time to what we are giving to each other. Or I just come out feeling like I’m lacking in something and that’s why it doesn’t work out. Maybe I wasn’t prettier than his ex. Maybe I was too introverted. Maybe I was too outgoing. Maybe I wasn’t smart enough. Maybe I wasn’t so, so many things. So as of right now, I love LOVE, but I’m also fearful of LOVE and allowing myself to say that I probably do actually need and want it. Maybe not right now, but hopefully someday. “Someday sooner than later!!!”, my mom will always say (A single daughter is every Chinese mother’s greatest fear). So now let’s back away from the topic of love, because so far that has just been going to shit for me. Not that dating hasn’t been a shit show either, but it’s so much more fun to talk about. So let’s start with online dating. The horror. The embarrassment. The eye-rolling. The OMFG how am I going to get through another beer with this dude. I didn’t even attempt the world of Internet dating until I quit my full-time job just about exactly a year ago. I finally was free of the chains of corporate desk life, I was tired of meeting Midtown dudes in suits during happy hour near my office, and I was able to accept that fact that trying online dating wasn’t the freakiest idea out there. I was ready to start fresh and see what the Internet boys of New York City had to offer! And then it goes . . .
I was just trying to figure out what I was doing last Memorial Day weekend, and I just remembered that I went on my very first Tinder date in the Rockaways. He was smart. Taller than me. He had hair past his broad shoulders. He liked to plant and cook and travel and make his own tea. We had a mutual friend from Philly. He spoke fluent Spanish and wanted to teach me to speak it better after he found out I was a quarter Mexican. He liked all the same Williamsburg places I did. He was a little hippie but not so much. We spent 24 hours together. That last hour was the last I saw of him. But that was okay, because I got what I needed out of that 24 hours. I was at a turning point in my life career-wise. I had no attachments to anyone really at the moment of my life. I just went with it. I had fun. And I was ready to see what else was out there. Maybe if we didn’t do so much in those 24 hours, the relationship would have continued, and I always thought about that for a few weeks after our rendezvous on the beach and in his part of Williamsburg, but I was totally (and weirdly okay) with it ending just like that. Thanks for the salty memories dude.
Then there was the guy who played the mandolin. He was really cool but liked his mandolin more than he liked me. That is a fact. Then there was the guitarist who was at the same Haerts concert as I was just the week before we chatted online. He ended up still being into his ex-girlfriend. Ummm, then there were a handful of more musicians (yeah, I have a problem I know).
There was the cute Australian who had the nerve to wait a month to tell me that he had a girlfriend back in Los Angeles and that their situation was sticky, so that whatever we had going on currently was actually kind of okay. How does that make me feel? Asshole.
Oh shit. Almost forgot about the Swedish guy who worked at Spotify. He had really blonde hair and always wore a baseball cap. His glasses were really thick. He was such a nice dude and funny little accent. And we had the same taste in music which was cool. But I never had even an urge to kiss him! Not even once. So that didn’t last very long. LOL.
Damn, then there was that time I got asked out via Instagram direct message. And well, that was awkward. He still likes my pictures on Instagram. I wish he wouldn’t.
There was the smiley 33 year old, half-Asian in Converse sneakers who did sound for reality TV. He said his favorite part of his job was the fact that he could sleep for the majority of the time on the job and get paid for it. That kind of bothered me. He modeled for Terry Richardson once, which I should have taken as a sign to boot it the heck out of there asap. But I liked his side-swept hipster hair and free-spirit and that he kind of reminded me of a half-Asian Jim Carey (weird I know). We laughed a lot on that date and he wanted to take shots. I stupidly took two and ended up throwing up as soon as I got home and first thing in the morning. Who takes shots on a first date?!? Apparently I do (idiot). I’m also pretty sure he did coke when he used the bathroom, but I didn’t ask. That was the first time I semi-blacked out on a date. That was also my very last Tinder date. Ever. He wanted to take me to a concert three days later. I never replied. Sorry man.
The 35 year old filmmaker who juggled odd jobs. He believed in his “art” but wasn’t too happy about his situation. He was so good looking that I nearly died upon laying eyes on him, but that still wasn’t enough for me to look past his insecurity about his calling in the world. I told him he’d find his way, he’d just have to really commit to it. And then I told him that he should jump in his car ASAP and get the hell out of Brooklyn. Men are such lost little puppies sometimes.
And I can never forget the Dutch art snob and then the Australian marketing man who loved to meditate in his spare time (the most recent of them all). Both made me come to realize that I’m a little more worthy of being at least on the top 2 (or 3, but come on) of someone’s priority list if they want to pursue anything with me. That’s not really asking for that much is it? I don’t know why I allow myself to get into these situations in the first place and allow myself to stay in them for so long. Thank goodness for friends who tell me that “he wasn’t the one” so I can officially move on.
Then there’s the guy in a different state that I’ve been talking to on and off for I think just a little over a year. We have yet to meet and were meaning to meet. It should have already happened, it might happen soon, or it might never happen. It’s hard to explain, but I like talking to him so I’m trying to think of it as more of a modern pen pal sort of situation more than anything else before I get swallowed up once again in something that probably never existed in the first place. Does that even make sense? None if it makes sense.
Love makes no sense. Love. Like. Sometimes it feels like there is nothing to distinguish the two, and that’s why it’s so hard to pinpoint down when one or the other is really there. What is real. What is not.
I have quite a few more stories up my sleeve, but I think I’ll save those for another time.
Basically online dating in NYC has pretty much scarred me for life. But I also must say, that I learned a whole lot about what I like and don’t like when it comes to relationships from each and every single one of them. I still believe in love a whole hell of a lot. And hope keeps me going. But I also sometimes feel like I should book the next flight to Barcelona, Spain (a one-way ticket), find myself a sexy Spaniard to take as a lover and never look back.
As for now I’m just going to keep living and loving life, whether there is a man in my life or not. That’s the least I can do. I do believe that looking for a significant other is nice, but it’s not what drives my life. And I do believe that he’ll show up most unexpectedly and my world will change for the better.
Now tell me some of your crazy, wild, stupid, sappy dating stories!