They say that the Big Apple is the worst city in the world for single women. If you walk down the street, you can see why. There are beautiful, single women (competition) on every crosswalk and corner. They jaywalk, speed walk, multitask and rule the world with confidence, style and cojones.
Blame the low ratio of eligible men versus women, or our focus on ambition and professional success; single women are everywhere. And men know this. It’s no wonder it’s tough to date in NYC.
Every time a man gets married in Central Park, a single woman weeps on the train.
So you can imagine my relief when I was single again…in Los Angeles. I had a plethora of men at my disposal. It was a new city in which to play. It’s no New York.
Only it kinda is.
After my first date with the Indian man from Match, I was excited for our second date. He called two days later and we made plans for the upcoming week. Date night arrived. Though exhausted from the previous night out at SUR in West Hollywood, I was ready to get to know him and sip on cocktails at a lounge. I was even planning to cozy up to him.
Four hours until the date and I get a text.
“Hey is it okay if we take a rain check? I also went out last night and I am exhausted.”
I was confused but decided to not make it a big deal. I also needed to rest. I told him so. He said he’d contact me soon. His daughter was staying with him for the summer and he needed to find a babysitter. Once he did, we’d have our second date.
The second date, however, never happened. He never called or text. I tried him once or twice and it was the same song and dance – kid, and still no babysitter. I called it a wash and continued dating and mingling.
That’s when I met Rich, a nurse who was born and raised in LA, just like the Indian guy. We met at Laurel Tavern in Studio City. We made out like teenagers that very night. The next day we made plans to go on a real date. He took me to a Mexican restaurant (what else in LA?!) in Toluca Lake. We kissed again and made plans for the following week.
Only the date never happened. Rich text to confirm two days prior but never showed up to pick me up. I had been stood up again. And again another time by another man that I met online, who was also a born and bred Angelino.
So it seems “they” are wrong. The worst city in the world to date isn’t NYC. Yes, men can be crude, obnoxious and juggle multiple women, but at least they show up. Los Angeles may just be the Land of Flaky Men. I’ll take a bite of The Big Apple any day and find solace while weeping on the train.
Photo Credit: Flickr.com/Aganderson.