On a recent trip to New York, I had some free time up my sleeve and at the suggestion of a friend, began an online dating quest to immerse myself in the city and get to know the locals and all that jazz. Once I figured out how to use OkCupid—it took me eight hours and ten cups of coffee to realise you can just skip those fucking never-ending introductory personality questions—I had dates coming out the wazoo. All my wazoos.
Met an Aussie guy at orientation of the school I was attending over the summer. He was fun and had a good sense of humour. We agreed to go on a date and have a typically touristy kitschy time. It was organised that we would watch classic New York films at my place and pig out on some deep-fried take away. I chose Popeyes. Everything was ready: I picked up the food (one family bucket of fried chicken and a heap of sides) and set it up in my room. I laid an extra sheet down on my bed and thought it would be funny to place all the chicken in a circle so that we could sit and just eat our way out of a circle of fried chicken then do whatever came naturally. My friend, whose room I was renting, gave me explicit instruction to have at least one love affair in her bed, so this was perfect. I was succeeding already! The minutes dragged on and when he didn’t respond to my third text message, I realised he wasn’t coming. I felt shitty. I had been stood up on my first date in NYC. Not only that, but I was at home, alone, in my room, completely and depressingly surrounded by fried chicken. On the upside, I had lunch for a week. Serves me right dating an Aussie in New York.
Rating: Insulting. Bleak. Isolating. ★ (for the food).
Update: this guy never turned up at school again – he was probably a ghost or a hobo.
Original date: creepily meeting at dawn to walk aimlessly around a weird part of Queens. Date I changed it to when I realised this first date actually wasn’t witty banter: mid morning coffee in a normal neighbourhood. I received a text message from him at 6.45am telling me we needed to reschedule because he had just gotten home – this after previously reprimanding me for going out myself the night before. Crazy dick. I am not rescheduling.
Rating: Bewildering. Boorish. Recalcitrant. Zero Stars.
This is an excerpt from The Lifted Brow #21, The Sex Issue. Buy your copy now!