Bad dates: We've all had them. He didn't pay. She didn't show up. Came back to the table and they were already gone. She got a text from her husband during dinner. There are classically bad moments you come to accept as inevitable while dating in NYC.
These are not those moments.
To put it mildly, some of us have been on some pretty absurd dates.
How absurd? Well, here's a teaser. Some of us have been bitten by rats and left waiting at restaurants and bars. Others of us have fallen in love only to never hear from the person again, or had to deal with rampant ebola anxiety.
Read on to find out just how bad dating can be in NYC, firsthand, courtesy of some of spoiled NYC's fabulous staff of writers and contributors.
Isaiah
"He asked to have dinner with me at Becco on 46th at 6:30 before seeing Once at 8. I get to the restaurant and sit down at our table to wait for him.
At 6:45, he texts me that he’s outside the restaurant, but forgot his wallet and needs to go back home to get it. I sheepishly sneak out, avoiding eye contact with our would-be server to hop in a cab to his place in Astoria.
I pay for the cab, as he doesn’t have his wallet. It’s also at this time I notice he’s already wasted.
The guy invited me up so I didn’t have to wait outside in the cold but within twenty seconds of us walking in, he makes a move on me. I gently remind him that we have a show to catch and half an hour to get there.
After the ordeal of trying to hail a cab by the Queensboro Bridge, we make it to the theater as the overture starts (I really wanted to see that show dammit).
The whole time my stomach is growling and he’s whispering quite loudly in my ear about random facts about the show, even a guy he slept with in the cast.
After it’s over, we walk outside and he says “thanks for being a trooper” before trying to kiss me. I thanked him for the tickets and turned to find the nearest McDonald’s before jumping on the subway home."
Liz
"I was set up with this guy through a mutual friend.
We had a pretty good time, which isn’t hard when every beer you’re drinking comes with a whiskey shot. After a few more bars, a co-workers going away party, and sufficient inebriation was reached, we decided it was time for late night pizza.
One of my friends joined us, and the three of us were walking down Mulberry Street. All of a sudden I feel a pinch on my foot, it almost felt like a bee sting. I look at my friend, whose face has turned a pale white and her jaw is dropped to the ground.
After asking her in a panic what happened, she goes on to tell me that a rat had scurried across her foot, she kicked it, and it somehow landed on my foot.
This all happened at such a rapid pace I didn't even see it, but I did see I had a scratch on my foot. The scariest part is, we just went on and got pizza anyway.
When we got back to my apartment, this guy goes in for the drunken, post-date kiss. Suddenly, mid-make out, it really starts to dawn on me in my haze that a disgusting, NYC-dwelling rat has broken my skin.
So, I break away and say, “So, this has been really fun, but I think my foot may need some medical attention.”
After going back upstairs my roommate-- aka the rat kicker --dumped a bottle of peroxide on my foot and it bubbled up like volcano. This guy and I never had a second date; honestly I think I unfairly associated him with the nights’ disturbing events. Also, don’t worry, I don’t have rabies."
Pearl
"I had just moved here, so didn’t know my way around too well yet.
This guy knew that, and decided it was a good idea to let me still choose the place we met, giving me a choice between The 13th Step and Village Pourhouse (side note: now that, years later, I know how horrific both those bars are, I would have deleted this dude’s number).
Being the rational person I am, I chose The 13th Step because it was closer. That was literally my only reason. As soon as I get there, and after noting how douchey it is, I pull up a bar stool and order a beer.
The guy was more than 30 min late, sits down, and before even saying hello he tells me, “I failed the test.” I asked “What test?”
He goes on a long-winded explanation as to why I should have chosen Village Pourhouse, because everyone knows it’s better than the The13th Step, and how can I not know that?
After reminding him I was new to the city, and even with that fact I could rattle off about 50 cooler bars than the one we were currently in, he rolled his eyes and ordered a plate of nachos.
He then got out his phone and called his friends to see where they were. He also didn’t offer me any nachos! I finished my beer and left. Haven’t been back to that bar since."
,Catherine
book_marks • Strand Books, 828 Broadway, New York City With 18 miles (28.9 kilometres!) of over 2.5 million new, used, rare, and out-of-print books, Strand Books is a veritable book treasure trove. Named after the famous London publishing street, the Strand began in 1927 and remains the sole survivor of 'Book Row' (6 city blocks of 48 bookstores running from Union Square to Astor Place - can you imagine? 😍). There is an ever-changing plenitude of literary goods, gifts, clothes, and don't even get me started on the tote bags. This is the place where new and established authors alike will almost always have their book signing or appear for in-store events and dialogues. I've heard you can get married in the Rare Book Room, and that may just make this Broadway gem the most perfect bookstore in New York City.
"For our second date, this guy had asked me to hang out one Sunday afternoon. We ended up having a sort of quintessential New York date, the kind that romantic comedies would cause you to assume you'd go on all the time once you moved here.
It was a chilly but beautifully sunny winter day; we got coffee, browsed The Strand, and walked around the East Village. He took me to see this beautiful church that was nearby, and seemed to know a lot about architecture in a non-pretentious way, which is difficult to manage.
What a nice day, right? I thought so too, until I never heard from him again.
Pro tip for all you dating New Yorkers: always pay attention to the following red flags that I foolishly ignored: 1) They tell you all about the novel they're currently writing, 2) They off handedly call one of your favorite bands "moody", and lastly, and this is the most important... 3) They're from New Jersey."
Pete
"I had been seeing a woman, a single mother, something of a party animal, unfamiliar with the city. She wanted to do things in Times Square, and already I wasn’t feeling it.
But halfway through the Ripley’s Believe It Or Not Museum, it was clear she was tripping on acid. I wasn’t necessarily turned off by this, but I was suddenly extra aware of everything she was doing. Until I looked away for a minute and she tried jumping in front of a bus.
After 30 minutes of hysterical crying on the ground of a dog park, we went inside and she took a shower. I tried to sleep, because by this point it was 6 a.m. When she got out of the shower, she must have thought, “You know what, I feel like boning Pete and choking the hell out of him.”
I didn’t really know if she was still in the thick of it, so I went with it even though I’d rather have remained unabused and breathing normally.
We didn’t really mess with each other again, and I got the impression she’d needed to cut extra loose because of her intense responsibilities."
Sara
halopigg The #EbolaTourist himself @dontfretart is upon us #NYC! #DontFret #HandPainted #wheatpaste in #Williamsburg. #paster #pasteup #ebola #ebolanyc #ebolanyc2014 #ISurvivedEbolaNYC2014! #FingersCrossedEmoji
"Remember that time when everyone in NYC thought we'd get Ebola?
Yeah, I was part of that epidemic, and unfortunately, so was the girl I was dating. It was the day we found out that a guy in NYC had ebola, and that he'd been riding on the subway. I had also, of course, been riding the subway that day.
I found out this news, and I'd just recovered from my panic attack on the floor when the girl I was seeing rang my doorbell for our date.
The first thing she said was, "I think we're going to get Ebola." I said, "I know. We're probably all going to die." Cue awkward silence. Then, I said, "So ... we should just enjoy tonight, right?"
Wrong. We did not enjoy that night. I had cooked her salmon, and she didn't eat a bite of it. When I asked her why, she said she didn't want to eat "Ebola salmon." So, I threw the salmon in the trash.
We tried hooking up, but we gave up after ten minutes or so, since we were both too convinced we were going to die to really get into it.
This girl dumped me a week later, saying she needs to date someone who'd tell her she'd survive ebola, not someone who'd say, 'Yeah, I know, I just finished having a panic attack on the floor.'"
Check out 7 Struggles of Being Single During the Fall Season in NYC.