So, I met a fabulous man in New York, and then he told me that he was moving halfway across the world. Not being at the right time in my life to make such an important personal decision, and quite frankly, not interested in even contemplating another marriage at this point, I took some time to formulate a plan to get myself back on the market.
How can a woman who has not been single since 2002 (and even then, not for long) make her way into the rough and tumble Manhattan dating scene?
Well, my dear readers, you are about to find out, and in as much vivid detail as I can stomach to put on my blog. That's right - welcome to the real life Sex and The City.
Chapter 1:
As my illustrious profession does not exactly give me a lot of free time, and as the vast majority of my NYC friends are gay, I needed to find a way to meet new people. Putting myself on Match.com would be casting a bit too broad of a net, and so, I put myself up on a site exclusively for ivy league graduates. My rationale was that the men listed there would at least be relatively intelligent, and that they would also be looking for smart and successful women.
I had to fill out some awful profile with basic statistics and likes/dislikes. My approach was to shun the "please and appease" posting style adopted by many of my female co-posters (1) and instead post Bebemoche style. I added a small photo which is passable (after all, who keeps glamour shots of themselves around?). And then I waited. My operating principles dictate that I will not be trolling the site's male postings, but rather would wait for the mountain to come to Mohammed.
(1) you can anonymously search and read profiles on the site as a visitor. I almost vomited there was so much "I will bring you breakfast in bed" bulls*it
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