All Aboard...

You think 'Oh, New York City--millions of young, attractive, stylish, and successful singles. This is going to be just like Sex and the City!'

Welcome to my dating nightmare.

Now, I'm not one to toot my own horn, but I am a catch. I started my monogomist habits at the ripe age of 14, breaking hearts and taking names since puberty. In the South, that's what you do--you have boyfriends. So, I did. Lots of them.

One after the other until senior year of college. The longest time I'd been single was 3 months (which happened between long-term college relationships). Then, after the last brutal break up, I decided to grow up, set my list of must-have qualities, moved to NYC, and entered the dating 'real world.'

I don't think I like this real world. In fact, it kinda blows. This NYC dating scene--it's something else. I've been on blind dates, one-nighters, set-ups, group dates, and even dabbled in some internet dating. Obviously, to no avail, as here I am blogging. But, I have some great (and by great, I mean absofuckinglutely horrible/highly entertaining) stories.

Stories about playing Battleship. 

In college, or in small towns, no matter who you meet you know at least one other person that knows the object of your latest fancy. You can get the dirty deets--Is he single? Nice guy? Commitment issues? Unnatural relationship with his mother? Some skunk on the junk?

But in NYC, you're flying blind out there. It's a tough lesson to learn, but so far it seems like all males between the ages of 22-32 are out there looking for the next best thing and her (or his for all that matter) vagina (or whatever). So they say whatever can seal the deal:

So he says he works for a hedge fund in Manhattan? He actually sells meth out of his aunt's basement. 

He's 26, never been married, would love to settle down? Actually, he's 33, thrice-divorced, has partial custody and a nasty case of crabs. 

You really hit it off, send him a flirty follow-up text, and he never responds? Translation:: He hit it, got your text while with the next one, and you totally misfired. 

You get the gist.

So instead of wallowing in my own misguided singleness, myself and Sgt. Darling have decided to collect some of our more entertaining stories for your cringing pleasure. Enjoy. You sadistic bastards.