My friend who is single and equally frustrated with dating in Seattle lured me out to Ballard last night with the promise of hanging out with two men who she recently met and described as "fun." I trust her judgment, and fun sounded better than doing laundry by myself on a Saturday.
They were physicians, and it showed. We were in the company of the only two men in the Kangaroo and Kiwi who weren't wearing flannel shirts. Have you ever met a doctor who wears flannel? Exactly. They paid for our drinks and cover charge at a nearby club, and I didn't argue because it was one of the few times I have been out with men who make more money than I do. I usually fight to make things financially equal along gender lines, but when a man makes more than $200,000 I forgo my feminism for socialism. A wealthy man spending money on me promotes income equality, I rationalize. It's Marxism for dating.
My friend had great chemistry with Man #1, and Man #2 and I had a pleasant time with absolutely no romantic connection. After midnight, Man #2 received a text message from Man #1 requesting some time alone with my friend. We laughed and launched into our own conversation about dating.
"You know what your problem is?" he asked. "You're dating in the wrong city."
No fucking shit.
"I can tell just by meeting you that the tech guys aren't your thing."
I found it odd how I didn't know this man at all, yet he was spot on in his appraisal of me.
"Don't move to Portland or San Francisco, it's the same thing. Or L.A.- God you'd hate dating in L.A.!"
He thought for a moment. "You know where you'd do well? Brooklyn."
He was right, and I wanted to cry.
"But I love Seattle! I want it to work here. It has to! I need the mountains!"
I spent ten years trying to get back to this city as an adult. I've lived in Atlanta, Boston, Vietnam, Ghana, South Korea, Guatemala, and a town of 2000 people in central Washington. In every city I made friends and adjusted, but in the back of my mind I knew that my home would forever be sandwiched in between Puget Sound and the Cascades. I never doubted that I would succumb to my Northwest roots and return here to live. Take away the alpine forests, and a part of me is missing.
"Yeah," he said. "You're gonna have to give up the mountains. You're gonna move to Brooklyn and find yourself meeting someone and staying there."
It was pointless to argue, I knew, but Oh My God do I want him to be wrong.
They were physicians, and it showed. We were in the company of the only two men in the Kangaroo and Kiwi who weren't wearing flannel shirts. Have you ever met a doctor who wears flannel? Exactly. They paid for our drinks and cover charge at a nearby club, and I didn't argue because it was one of the few times I have been out with men who make more money than I do. I usually fight to make things financially equal along gender lines, but when a man makes more than $200,000 I forgo my feminism for socialism. A wealthy man spending money on me promotes income equality, I rationalize. It's Marxism for dating.
My friend had great chemistry with Man #1, and Man #2 and I had a pleasant time with absolutely no romantic connection. After midnight, Man #2 received a text message from Man #1 requesting some time alone with my friend. We laughed and launched into our own conversation about dating.
"You know what your problem is?" he asked. "You're dating in the wrong city."
No fucking shit.
"I can tell just by meeting you that the tech guys aren't your thing."
I found it odd how I didn't know this man at all, yet he was spot on in his appraisal of me.
"Don't move to Portland or San Francisco, it's the same thing. Or L.A.- God you'd hate dating in L.A.!"
He thought for a moment. "You know where you'd do well? Brooklyn."
He was right, and I wanted to cry.
"But I love Seattle! I want it to work here. It has to! I need the mountains!"
I spent ten years trying to get back to this city as an adult. I've lived in Atlanta, Boston, Vietnam, Ghana, South Korea, Guatemala, and a town of 2000 people in central Washington. In every city I made friends and adjusted, but in the back of my mind I knew that my home would forever be sandwiched in between Puget Sound and the Cascades. I never doubted that I would succumb to my Northwest roots and return here to live. Take away the alpine forests, and a part of me is missing.
"Yeah," he said. "You're gonna have to give up the mountains. You're gonna move to Brooklyn and find yourself meeting someone and staying there."
It was pointless to argue, I knew, but Oh My God do I want him to be wrong.
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