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“It can be mentally and physically exhausting, and I start to question the time and money I’ve spent,” he says.Garofola isn’t the only guy who is fed up with playing the field.“In New York, everyone has this feeling that they have limitless options,” the Gramercy-based lawyer tells The Post.“We have this mentality of, ‘Why should I settle for Susan, who’s beautiful and smart, when I could turn the corner and meet Jessica, who’s just as smart and beautiful?You aren’t relegated to the movie theater at the local mall, and if you are going to see a movie you can go to places like Nitehawk and eat artisanal cheese while watching it.Usually the best first dates start with a drink, maybe at a bar in the East Village, where you talk for hours and determine that you both share a love of dim sum and Chinese beer. Then, during the meal, you both discover that you both have stiff shoulders, so it’s off to a massage place on the Lower East Side for cheap massages. And if your neighborhood happens to be more than three stops outside Manhattan? Yes, New Yorkers also pass on prospective mates because they're too nice, needy, live in a neighborhood that’s inconvenient, or are just plain weird. You’re usually meeting at the bar/restaurant/coffee shop. What if it’s one of the eight months a year when it’s freezing or those other four when it’s unbearably humid?
And thanks to online services it’s never been easier to find them.
Then maybe you go back to his or her place to play the game "everything but..." (This one might have actually happened.) That’s the beautiful part of New York dating.
A good first date can last all day and maybe even into the next and can be something truly memorable, even if the other "stuff" doesn't end up that way. There’s always another bar, another meet-up group, another Tinder match.
Or to take a magical ride on Jane’s Carousel, or reserve a table at that new restaurant, or hit the concert they’ve been wanting to see. Maybe you ask to be set up with a friend of a friend. Again, I tip my hat to you, but this is increasingly not how it works here. When a couple in a different city recounts the story of how they met, they would often rather lie and tell you it was in a strip club than suffer e-shame. After you’ve gone to the bars, and sent all the PMs, and swiped to the right on anyone who isn’t in a picture with their mom or a tiger (it happens! Or did you not shave your legs/chest in an attempt to behave, but now you’re screwed because they’re hot and smart and you’re going home with them anyway?
If it goes well, have you packed your tiny overnight toothbrush in the event of a sleepover?