My years of dating—have involved a lot of woman, short- and long- and mid-term. My longest relationship was my marriage...5 years . My shortest—minus the one-off hookups that we all know aren't "dates" at all—was somewhere in the range of two weeks. There have been certifiable crazies,the non-commital, the bitch and the stalker.Their ages have ranged from nearly 12 years younger than me to going on 10 years older. At some point, I yelled at almost all of these women for not being "what I wanted," and, as we all do, turned to my friends for consolation and support. "Se doesn't deserve you," they would say, my own Greek chorus. "You're so much better than her."If you're a single, heterosexual man of a certain age living in New York City, you've surely heard some version of the lament more times than you can count: "There are no good single women living in New York City! You've probably met more than a few aesthetically, shall we say, "uneven" couples, in which the man is short, pudgy, bald—or distractingly hirsute—with one of those pudding faces only a mother (or gold-digger) could love. He's impossibly rich, and his lady-friend could model for a living, and possibly does. Also, he cheats on her. Only in New York!And you've probably heard, and maybe retold, the modern-day relationship folk tale of that friend of a friend who, after "unsuccessfully" dating in New York for years, met his amazing wife while living or vacationing in Austin, or Boston, or Paris, or Rio, and then brought her back—or moved there himself. Because, you know, you just can't find a decent woman in this city. It's impossible. Those who do it are the exception, not the rule. Ask anyone.Maybe saying and hearing this makes single men feel better.The problem is, it's patently untrue. Worse, it's a cop-out.Single women currently outnumber single men in New York by 149,219. This is based on data from the U.S. Census, which, it bears mentioning, does not ask to identify sexual orientation. Meanwhile, our fine city was recently ranked the top spot for single men to find a willing lady to smooch, and whatever else, on New Year's Eve,If you're a single man who has moved to New York City, chances are it has to do with being good—even the best—at something. Hence the workaholics, status-aholics, power-aholics, and whatever else ambition breeds. Meanwhile, the streets are plentiful with ever more attractive women..Take a "concept" like "He's Just Not That Into You," which puts blame squarely on the man's shoulders. How freeing: He is just not that into you! But at what point did we lose the capacity to be as "Just Not That Into You" as the men? If we're to expect a society in which men and women are truly considered equals, women have to accept their portion of the responsibility, and the blame.Here's the deal, women of New York City: The so-called plight of the single lady? It's not about him. It's about you.There was (and still is) something wrong with you. And it's the same thing that's "wrong" with pretty much every single woman in New York complaining she can't find a decent man, or who has perhaps even given up in pursuit of her own continued drama and mini-amusements with the kind of guys she'd never want to settle down with anyway (safer that way). So many woman think that all boys want is to hook up, which I don't think is true,
For every guy the hooked up with or got screwed over, there have been nice, normal single guys with perfectly acceptable ZIP codes and ages and jobs and habits who never did a thing wrong but for some reason were chucked after the first or second, or maybe even third, date for being boring, predictable, too nice, too normal, not successful enough, or . . .too available.
So many woman bullshite me and tell me how they can't stand drama and that all you want is a nice, stable relationship with someone who loves and treats you well, but "nice" and "stable" have hardly the appeal of words like "exciting" or "passionate" or, well, "drama." Single, independent, financially solvent New York City women in the year 2013 has them sitting on a mountain of unprecedented options. Options: Those are exciting. So these woman want all the options, bigger and better and faster and shinier, or taller or sexier or stronger or smarter, and yet somehow also different and completely their own. They want the tippy-top of what they can get.... to push those boundaries.
That, to a large extent, is why most woman live here. It's not because they wanted to settle down with the patient and reliable plod-along schmo, and have babies and live in a three-bedroom house with a two-car garage where we peaceably grill in the summer and make casseroles in winter until we die. It's not because they wanted their lives charted out before they lived them.
Yet these never-ending options wreak havoc with them, as does the idea that they can dally with each of them without ever deciding on any and just hope it will all fall where it may—that someday their prince will come, and he better be fucking good. Holding out for everything they want—maybe it's a delusional expectation. Maybe it's more about self-reflection, an exercise in goals. It's more you-centered soul-searching than about the guy, necessarily. In most relationships, there's a huge, huge focus on timing.
One reason ladies in the prime marriage years flock to big cities is to compete for the most eligible men, and intelligent women who gravitate to vibrant cities are more likely to stay single—for longer, at least—because they rightly refuse to settle for someone who can't keep up with them intellectually or otherwise.
Rightly refusing to settle, especially for someone who's boring, otherwise uninspired, or just a bad choice, sounds pretty good—even empowering. Somewhere along the way, "settling" became a dirty word, But I'd argue that it's not about being picky. It's about having all of these options, and not knowing how to choose from among them, or whether these woman even want to. It's about the years that these woman were being told they can have it all, and suddenly being deeply afraid to admit that that house of cards has been a sham all along because no one really gets to have it all.
Everyone has to make choices. This isn't to say that if you want a successful career and to be a wife and a mom, you can't do it. Nor that you can't do it fairly well. But inevitably, you'll have to give up one thing for something else. Why should you settle? Because that's what all humans do when they make choices.
If Carrie Bradshaw were here and an actual person, she would say, "But what about the 'za-za-zoo'?" And after berating her for that corny terminology, I'd grudgingly agree that, yes, there needs to be something—call it magic, or a spark, or a connection—with regard to our romantic relationships. But the magic pales in comparison to the simplest, and yet most difficult, of things. Knowing what you want. It's timing, but it's more than that, because you dictate your own timing. You hold the cards.
If Carrie had wanted marriage and kids back in Season 4, she would have stuck with Aidan. Instead, she got panicked and neurotic and self-destructive and Carrie Bradshaw–esque, and started to have an affair with Big, who was clearly (until the unbelievable ending of the series) never going to marry her. Why do that to yourself? Because you aren't quite sure you want to get married, either. Because the grass is ever so mysteriously greener in the yard (does he even have a yard?) of the guy who doesn't want to marry you. And because it makes for good drama, or, at the very least, tragicomedy.
Still, at the end of the movie, or the TV series, everything gets wrapped up neatly and tied with a Tiffany-box bow. In the film version ofBreakfast at Tiffany's, Holly Golightly is eventually tamed by the love of a good man who has been there all along. In Working Girl, the girl gets her career-with-corner-office and Harrison Ford to pack her lunchbox. In The Apartment, Shirley MacLaine's character attempts suicide on account of Mr. Wrong, but in surviving finds her Mr. Right. Harry and Sally run through the relationship ropes course as enemies, friends, lovers, and enemies again, only to end up an old married couple. As do, of course, Carrie and Big. It all just seems to unfold, without anybody doing too much soul-searching or goal-plotting, much like a movie. A movie set in New York! This is what we're supposed to want.
People who have been married will tell you that it's not all butterflies and lying in the grass together clutching hands. It's actually work—not magic, and not the movies. Which means the dream we expect for ourselves drastically needs to be tempered with a dash of reality, a dose of self-reflection. Ultimately, marriage has more to do with knowing what you're looking for. Sure, there are a lot of guys out there that suck, but I don't think that's a New York–specific issue. There are all of these successful, smart, workaholic women who have their shit together and strong views and senses of who they are. Their expectations are a bit higher. And in New York, there's not this worry about being the only single person; they all have friends who are married, married with kids, divorced, single.
Fewer people are getting married than ever. According to a Pew Research poll published at the end of last year, about half of all adults in the U.S. are married, down from 72 percent in 1960. Four in 10 people consider marriage obsolete. At the same time that fewer of us are getting married, more people are doing it for love—. Love is not something that used to factor into marriages; it's a relatively modern concept. You might say we're spoiled by even expecting it, and that it's entirely unrelated to a social "institution" that was really about property and taxes and making sure you had enough kids to work the farm or protect the homestead way back when—not to mention one of the only socially acceptable ways for women to have sex.
But if you confessed to someone today that you'd married without "being in love," because you'd simply wanted to get married or have the financial foundation to start a family or maybe because you just didn't want to spend Sundays alone anymore, they would look at you with a horror akin to what you might bestow upon a person admitting to murder.
If there is a real and current plight of the single lady in New York City, it's not that New York men are so horrible. It's figuring out how to balance what you want and what you can get—in terms of love, marriage, and what each guy has to offer—against all of the options, including the imminent biological reality of your decreasing fertility. It's figuring out if you care about your fertility at all, and if you care about it in light of being—or not being—married. Because at some point, it will simply be too late to have kids.
At the same time, if you don't want children, then maybe you don't really want a husband, The fertility question is often a tipping point, and definitely a challenge for women,..Us...guys..are very motivated, and our career comes first. We are not under any age restriction, nor do they face the fertility reality. If that weren't an issue, I think women would keep playing the field, too. I would. But all the technology in the world isn't going to change that. If woman could have babies easily into your 50s, I think they would go on being single forever, but they can't. This is just a biological fact.
It's also a fact that, at least in the non-romantic portions of life, understanding and expressing what you want makes achieving it far easier, whatever the "it" is. Yet, by and large, New York City women fail to be specific with men about what they really want and instead just go along with things hoping for the best and getting angry when it doesn't work out that way. Or they're so specific, with such intricately wrought lists of requirements for what they will and won't date, that they miss the point altogether—if the criteria is that complicated, maybe they don't actually want to be with someone at all yet.
I am searching for my future wife/soulmate. Please stop by again.