So, having burned through my surplus body fat, I emerged from my winter hibernation to attend another Speed Dating Event. I think it went pretty well. But at the same time, it reminded me of certain thoughts I had on the previous one; and thoughts I have on living in New York City in general. So, bear with a moment if you will.

The event took place at a certain lounge described in the literature as “rated among the sexiest in New York.” I’ve always found the application of the term sexy to things other than human beings funny. And in this lounge, it occurred to me that we apply characteristics to buildings which the people who visit or inhabit them lack. So you take a group of sad and nervous, ordinary people and stick them in a sexy lounge. Are they sexy now? By the way thanks, Sex In The City, for making the lives of every single man, woman and child in New York 1% less authentic. And let’s not even mention Gossip Girl.

The story that goes the New York’s main opera house was built by an illiterate robber baron to compete with the old opera house next door, which is now mostly stages ballet. He couldn’t get his favorite shows put on, so he built his own place, bigger and fancier than the “real” one. This is the story of New York: insecure people throwing up huge structures that represent what they wish were themselves. The Rockfeller Center is a particularly good joke: it has that plague outside with the invocation to God&etc. and all those frescoes that look like Greek heroes. J.D Rockefeller was a philistine who donated huge sums of money to the arts.

When we all read Salinger’s The Catcher in The Rye in high school, in which Holden Caulfield denounces pretty much everything as phony, we all nodded our heads because teenagers think everything but themselves is phony. When we grew up we realized he’s just talking about New York. New York really is–isn’t it–the most pretentious city in the world, in which people live the least authentic lives? But why do I keep living here if I think this city encourages the worst sort of human behavior? Probably there’s something about the city itself that keeps you coming back. New York is a jealous lover. And I always think of the refrain of a song I’ve listened to far too many times, the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Under The Bridge: “At least I have her love / The city she loves me / Lonely as I am / Together we cry.” But if, as the Chili Peppers claim, L.A. is “the city of Angels,” New York must be the city of devils.

Anyway that’s all far too pessimistic given that, as I said, I had pretty good time. This event was billed for creative people,* which is certainly a label I’d sooner apply to myself than professional; the dates were a more generous six minutes, and I had more of an idea of what to expect. Plus they didn’t blast the music quite so loud. But still pretty loud. Now I have to ask. Why blast it all? I’ve been to a grand total of two of these things and I can’t count the number of girls–my own opinion aside–who’ve complained about the music. Never once have I heard a girl say (although perhaps, if I meet one who really doesn’t like me, I will): Gee, I sure wish this trashy music were louder! I was “dating” one quite nice older lady who was partially deaf in one ear, and let me tell you, the music didn’t help matters.

This event made me reflect that first impressions don’t mean much. The best conversations I ended up having were with girls who didn’t “grab” me by looks alone: I met one who had actually read my favorite authors, and we jawed about that. Another girl and I got really into martial arts (we turned out both to be black belts in our respective styles). Who knew? And I’m not saying these girls were unattractive, just perhaps that they weren’t my unconscious “type.”

I talked with another older women who confided to me (the subject of my literary work having come up) that she was writing a book: a catalogue of her dating disasters. It was like two spies accidentally meeting. But she really earned my respect when she reflected that, after all, it would need to have “a point…something to tie it together.” I encouraged her to really give it a try.

And I had resolved to pay more attention to my fellow male daters. Now, I don’t want to say anything mean or snarky. But it is very amusing to watch a guy on his “game.” Another guy knows just what’s going on. But maybe the girls like it…? I don’t know if I have a game. I think I treat most girls–except for very rare, intense crushes–pretty much the way I treat anyone. Maybe that’s a problem. But ladies, let me say this: men are fundamentally absurd. I can only imagine that any attraction you have towards us is a form of charity.

I did mark off a few names in “interested” column this time, and there is at least one I hope did likewise. But I’m wondering, on the whole, if I should keep trying this. When I’m thinking more about the social implications of the whole thing, I doubt I’m “all there” romantically, and my dates probably sense that. I might give some other avenues a try.

* = That said, I turned out to be one of all of three professional artists there. A lot of people, like before, were in marketing. But that is “creative” in its own way I guess.