Brilliant post of the week

And I know it’s only Monday, but it’s going to be hard to top Eurotrash’s weekend revelations about the men she meets. Girls, it’s not that He’s Just Not Into You, it’s worse, way worse:

1. When a [New York Man] is introduced to you, he shakes your hand, looks at you

   longlingly with those gorgeous sparkling eyes and instantly rates you

   in comparison with every other female resident in his temporary hunting

   ground. Needless to say, I was a screaming fourth last night. When I

   say rate, I really refer to a dual-concept sliding scale. He’ll adjust

   that scale on a real-time basis depending on a girl’s availability,

   presence of boyfriend, and drunkenness, co-factoring in the location,

   lateness of night and any emerging possibility that if he doesn’t at

   least make an effort to pick ME up, he might be going home alone.

2. When a NYM talks to you, he makes every effort to convince

   you that it is YOU he loves. YOU alone. Until a higher rated girl comes

   back from the lavatory, at which point those shining beacons of love

   also known as his ‘eyes’ move back to their real target and you are

   left, alone and ugly in the darkness. Until she goes to the loo again.

3. NYM doesn’t care you if you have a boyfriend or not. He’s

   up for it. IF you’re his number one pick. But if you’re faithful,

   numbers two, three [or even four, at a pinch] will do, at 2am when the

   crowds in Balthazar are thinning. You see girls, it’s not that he’s ‘just not that into you’, it’s just that you’re halfway down the list.  You need to wax more, and do something about your hair, to get promoted.

When I still lived in Manhattan, whenever anyone asked me about the dating scene, my standard reply was as follows: there are a ton of guys, but no one to date because in their minds, there’s always somebody better around the corner. And lo, some things aren’t about to change anytime soon.