The below account is nearly non-fiction.
In a last ditch effort to save any real chance at a love life, I’ve resorted to picking up guys on the subway. Most recently I’ve decided to let tall, dark-eyed men know whenever they accidentally drop something out of their pockets. Pockets which they awkwardly never have.
It’s always the same sized tiny piece of paper; I would know because I’ve crafted each one of them. When they finally unravel it to see my name and my phone number handwritten within the beginnings of a love letter, one of six things could then happen.
Number one.
If you’re an eternal pessimist, like myself, when it comes to dating, the first thing that could happen is that the handsome gentleman immediately pulls out a pair of beautifully hand-painted nunchucks, wraps them around your trachea, and continues to apply pressure for 3 to 5 minutes in the middle of the crowded subway car where every single New Yorker sharing oxygen with you acts like absolutely nothing abnormal is going on.
You should know, this also happens to be the most likely scenario.
Hollywood portrays dating in New York as if we’re all living life like Sex in the City. Reality is more like suffering the thirty seasons of Survivor instead.
All dating here proves is just how many crazy people exist in the world. And how every single last one of them gravitates to New York City. Truth is that the only thing more populous than singles in this city is the sheer number of therapists. Had I known this when I moved from Nashville, I would have been a little better prepared.
Number two.
If you’re lucky enough to not get nunchucked into neverland, the second possible scenario could make you wish you had. That’s when your newfound crush takes one look at your vulnerably handwritten note and makes a declaration in a nearly thunderous voice, “Oh, that is DEFINITELY...NOT... mine” to the entire train car. Now each of those strangers who cared nothing about your recent run-in on the 6 train are suddenly attentive to your every single move. They have transformed into one of those creepy paintings who have eyes that follow you around a room.
This is often the point in time when the train car slows to a stop and the conductor announces that there’s a delay ahead. Which is usually followed by her also announcing the train has decided to run express. Just for the hell of it.
Number three.
The next reaction that could happen when you open up your heart to a new individual is that they give you what I call: The Ghost.
This option will make you wonder if that paper you just handed a complete stranger actually had some sort of paralyzing chemical agent inside of it which has now been transferred into the skin and the entire body of your innocent victim. For a moment he will look like a life-sized version of my most favorite emoji, the one with huge saucer eyes and flushed cheeks, no smile. But the thing is - he will never stop looking shocked. For the next seven train stops, he doesn’t flinch a single muscle, not even so much as to blink.
Quite literally he is treating you as a Tyrannosaurus Rex, praying to Jesus you will just disappear if he doesn’t budge. This is his camouflage. Try not to take offense to his reaction. It’s really only that this moment is life or death for him.
At this point, you’re probably wondering why the hell you’re giving random slips of paper with your name and phone number to cute strangers in the subway. Your friends will ask you why not Tinder, or why not OK Cupid, or why not Law School instead?
Number four.
You love to make people laugh, and you find a sense of humor important in a significant other.
But this time, your crush looks down at the paper, then up at you, then down at the paper, and back up at you. There will be a silent pause for approximately 3 to 4 seconds, and then there will be an explosion of volcanic proportions.
This explosion will come from deep within the belly of your crush. I’m talking about the heartiest laugh mankind has ever witnessed. This is a grown man laugh-roar on the same decibel level with elephant calls. It will frighten you and make the hair on the back of your neck stand up in self-defense.
But remember: If this is the worst thing you experience all day, you’re having a pretty damn good day. Take it for what it’s worth: you made someone laugh.
Number five.
This is the moment when a gorgeous man takes the dropped paper from your hands, slightly gracing your fingers in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. He seems to already understand what you’ve done here. And he likes it. He sees your phone number and looks back for eye contact, now grinning where he wasn’t before. A grin which suddenly reveals that he has not a single tooth in his entire head.
Number six.
The last reaction, slightly less common than the laugher and the toothless, is one that has come to be known as the “Connor” by my oh, so helpful friends. It is named after perhaps one of the cutest guys you’ll ever give your number to on the subway. And it may even occur while riding the F train during daylight hours, a sure-bet for sanity.
Or so you’d think.
You’ll casually hand Connor your number, he’ll seem complimented. Later he’ll text you and ask you to dinner. Congratulations, you’ve officially gotten a dinner date through subway speed dating. Hashtag win.
Unfortunately, if you live in New York City you should know by now… If you meet someone who is wonderful, and attractive, and smart, and enjoys all the same things you do, and if that person happens to be single and wants to date you… this person is hiding the indisputable fact that they are somehow the biggest botch job of all.
You won’t see it at first, and that’s exactly why it’s gonna get you better than all the others with their surface issues. Poor Connor. By the time you meet up for dinner, he’ll have already planned your entire wedding. Somewhere in the universe there exists a Pinterest board to prove it. You should have predicted this scenario especially from the previous text messages spattered with heinous amounts of punctuation usage. “I am excited!!!!” and “I’m getting *ready*!” Who in the holy hell uses asterisks in a text message? It’s obvious from the first dinner date that Connor isn’t just a stage 5 clinger. He is at about stage 8.
Bless his heart.
Yes, that will be the first date... of three. By the third, you will have head-to-head grave plots together somewhere in Vermont.
There are a lot of fish in the sea, and some of them should probably stay there.
People often ask me why I’ve participated in subway speed dating. Besides the fact that I’m a masochist and need the attention, I guess that one day I’m secretly hoping to wake up and really love toothless smiles. Hell, at least they’re interested.