looked familiar, only to suddenly remember that I’d already slept with him. And then I had a crazy idea—why not just walk out into the actual world and see if a real-life human being wants to have sex with me? I’ll preface my war story by saying that I am very pro-dating app, for multiple reasons.
Little did I know the horror I was about to put myself through.
Annoyingly, everyone there was either in a group of friends or already on a date.For instance, this Danish poet I’ve been fucking—he’s so interesting and smart, he’s 6-foot-4, but he has these sideburns . “The general attitude used to be, ‘Online dating is for weirdos and losers,’ and now it’s, ‘Eww, who would try to hook up in a bar?—that’s for weirdos and losers.’ Today, you go to a bar to chat with your friends, not to hook up.” Which, in turn, clearly has made the latter a harder thing to do in recent years.Then for a while I circled around groups of men, all of whom ignored me. The one guy I did manage to say hello to—he was waiting for the bathroom, on his phone—just responded, “Sorry, I’m writing an email.” It was such a bizarre experience; I couldn’t tell if I’d become so dependent on dating apps that I’d literally lost the ability to talk to a stranger in a bar, or if it really is just an extremely difficult and awkward thing to do.But I wasn’t going to give up so easily, so I relocated to a random bar in Flatiron.