A native of Portugal, his profile claims he’s “”smarter, funnier and better looking in person”. He’s in private equity and his pictures feature an Hermes belt hoisting up white pants, his silhouette taking a swing on the golf drive at Chelsea Piers, and a close up with sunglasses. None of these excites you, but you like Europeans and his distance is a mere mile away, which in NYC terms means next door, plus several blocks of comfort. It’s worth a shot. Besides, all you really want is a glassfull of banter that can potentially lead to thrilling, passionate sex. He wants to meet at an Italian wine bar near his apartment. After initially agreeing, you decline and suggest another day. You’re not in the mood for alcohol and you know better than to force it. After a few days, he texts. 

How are you?

Well, and you?

I just had dinner… I’d like to have you for dessert.

Experts warn, you should avoid sugar and fat. 

LOL! I don’t listen to experts. 

It’s an encouraging sign that perhaps you can establish enough chemistry to make it to the bedroom. By Thursday night, you’re ready for a drink. You suggest the lively tapas spot on the corner. Again he suggests the Italian pizza bar near his apartment. You want  to look slim in your dress, not gorge on gluten, so you ask, 


Because I don’t feel like walking there just to walk back. 

You sit awhile with this revelation, letting the apathy of his position lethargize you with date inertia. 

Of course, you can make the 15 min stroll to his block, or ride a Citibike for six minutes, or take a Revel moped for $3, or even an Uber for $5, but so can he. It’s really that you want fun cocktails and a trendy atmosphere more than heavy wine and old Europeans. 

Meanwhile, he is becoming unnerved by your reticence. 

Is that okay?

You don’t say it probably isn’t.

It’s just humid, you know. 

And just like humidity, his jejune qualities, and blurry photos precipitate the improbability of a connection with someone who can’t be bothered to consider your comforts or tastes. It’s definitely no.

He doesn’t take it well and alerts you with several petty texts.

It’s not worth explaining that you can’t sleep with someone who makes it clear you’re no’t worth a $5 cab or a 15 minute walk. You wish him well.

No, I get the last laugh, he taunts, every text reinforcing your decision.

If you’re such a stickler for a meeting spot that explains why you’re single!

And that’s when it hits you, that the beauty of experience is knowing early that something isn’t for you. It feels good to be single, even if it doesn’t always feel good to be alone.

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