Its always nice to feel solidarity with my fellow New Yorkers, no matter how strange or crazy these people may be.
This morning on the 6 on the way to work I had the pleasure of realizing I am not alone in my dating dramas. I was sitting, listening to my Happy Holidays playlist, and reading AM when a woman sat down next to me and pulled out a large file folder. She was dressed in professional clothing, but had an air of "I'm a little kooky and probably burn incense on a regular basis" look about her. Always being one to get in other people's business, I peered over her shoulder into the file folder, expecting to see resumes, work documents, etc... Instead, she was shuffling through numerous match.com profile print outs, all covered in handwritten notes. The only notes I could read clearly were on the picture of a middle aged, slightly balding man. They said said: "Two kids, Bushwick, good soul." She got off at 28th Street before I could read more. Although my cynical self wanted to laugh, I thought, you go girl, good luck with that date. And then I secretly prayed that would never be me.
At 33rd Street a tall, lanky man with Harry Potter glasses sat down next to me and was furiously scribbling away on a yellow steno pad. Again, I peered over his shoulder. "Brunch was kaput. I realized we had been set up. Dad sat across from us smiling, but she was horrible. Bad date." This is amazing I thought - I am living vicariously through two different people's dating lives in one subway ride! I surreptitiously peered again. "Went to the zoo with Dad. Never letting him set me up on anymore dates." Ok, this guy seriously needs to get on match.com. I was so enthralled with this man's private scribbling I almost missed my stop and my purse got caught in the subway door when I was running out. But it was totally worth it.