There's always a match to be made. If you're single and you know it , someone else will always be clapping their hands for you. Once the people you bump into in the city stop asking why you're still single , they'll start asking you if you'd like to meet every other single person they know. If you're Jewish Challah , you won't even have a say in this. Your aunt in Westchester, your rabbi from middle school or a girl you went to Jewish summer camp with at age 7 will call you up out of the blue to let you know that they gave your number to an Adam or a Shumlik, perhaps a Jacob who lives on the Upper West Side.
And before you'll have the chance to let out an ughhh or a Come on, not again! Dates start past your bedtime. The city that never sleeps, right? Most dates you'll go on during the week will first start around 9: Happy hours or lunch dates who gets a whole HOUR for lunch anymore?
Meeting new people is easy. People will always try to tell you that you'll meet the one when you least expect it. Well in NYC, I'm meeting new people all the time! The homeless guy by Grand Central Station who once almost spit gum in my hair, the lady who punched me in the nose by Herald Square and the guy who stood behind me in line at Chase bank and mumbled something about the shape of my butt.
Sure, you'll meet a lot of new people here, but you won't want to date most of them. Many of those people will seem more like fictional characters your friends back home will swear you made up for the sake of an epic story. You'll meet new people in the weirdest places. On the 6 train. In line to use the bathroom at a dive bar on 6th avenue. These are all places I've met people who have asked me out on dates in the last six months.
When the bill comes, neither one of you can really afford to pay it. Two drinks each in this city will cost more than you probably make in an hour and that appetizer you ordered costs more than your grocery bill for the week.
You'll go on a lot of dates to "Speakeasies. A waiter in a bowtie will approach your table and ask you the most intimate question of the evening: What do you like? And in front of two guys -- both strangers, one you've known for just a few minutes longer -- you'll begin to spill your guts. You'll admit that you're allergic to molasses and tequila makes you nauseous and there's no better taste in the world than coconut -- all before you ask if you can just order a beer. Real dating is nothing like "Sex and the City.
Way, way less glamorous. You'll bump into exes. You'll go on a date or two with a guy and never hear from him again. And then you'll bump into him when one of you is looking down at your phone and the other is observing a sign on a window, and you will literally crash into each other on Park Avenue at 7 p.
This will happen with every single person you never want to see again. You don't need a date to have an incredible time. When you don't have a date lined up on a Friday night, you can percent rely on the city to show you a good time.
Alone time is priceless. If you don't have a date lined up, you'll be so exhausted from a long work week that you'll find nothing sweeter than spending Friday night crashing on your couch, eating anything you can find in your pantry. The same potential dates will keep popping up. Everyone in this city will start to look familiar and after digging through your memory trying to figure out how you know them, you'll realize you swiped right over their face on Tinder or messaged them on JDate.
People will judge a book by its neighborhood. The second question after "What do you do? I live in Murray Hill and when I tell people that, they roll their eyes, tell me I'm stuck in college and assume a list of things longer than my grocery list.
Sometimes I lie and say Gramercy and people will gush with excitement and awe and want to hold my hand and sip lemonade on the steps of a brownstone I don't live in. You don't have to be lonely. That is, if you don't want to be. There's always something to do or a place to hang out. I've watched hours float away from me as I sat on a bench in Washington Square Park and chatted with strangers. There's a dance floor, somewhere, and it has your name on it. Every once in a while, you'll go out with a bunch of your friends and spend the night dancing in the basement of some Lower East Side bar like you don't have a care in the world.
You'll throw your hair up in a messy bun and laugh so hard until it's 4 a. And then, well, you won't go home just yet. You'll grab a greasy slice of pizza. You'll walk along the East River and watch the sunrise. Your friends will take pictures that no amount of Instagram filters can ever make as truly awesome as the moment really was. Buildings will become stained with memories.
That Italian restaurant in Union Square and that steakhouse on the Upper East Side and that pothole in the middle of Madison Avenue won't just be ordinary places you can pass by with indifference; they'll become extensions of the people you went there with.
That's where we kissed and this is the last place we went before we stopped seeing each other. They'll become triggers that remind you of the stories that starred people you used to share your heart with. No one -- not your toes, or the guy sitting across from you on a first date, or the pee-stained pavement of sidewalks that line this city -- will appreciate or commend you for wearing high heels.
Christmas in the city is worse than Valentine's Day anywhere else. You'll feel the most down about being single around the holidays. Stock up on peppermint Hershey kisses and tea and books and Netflix and try to avoid touristy areas and mistletoe.
Have you ever found yourself, alone, standing underneath mistletoe? And I'm better for it. There's nothing more important than loving yourself. It takes a while to love yourself, but you'll start to like yourself here. Because you have to. Because you'll find yourself spending a lot of quality time with yourself on the subway or waiting in line for a bagel or sitting in Central Park reading a book you hope will never end.
And you'll witness the most ridiculous things alone sometimes, and you'll find yourself laughing alone, or talking out a full problem to yourself in public alone, or crying inside Bank of America alone.
And if anything, being in this city will help you realize one thing: You're going to be just fine.