For almost every year since I've had my personal website accessible to the rest of the Internet, I've written some sort of "end-of-an-era" piece. Whether the occasion was graduating from college or reciting the 13 things I learned in 2013, I've always enjoyed wrapping up information into bundled lists.
Thus, this post.
2015 was a different year for me. For the first time since 2010, it was the first year I wasn't in college. It was the first year I lived completely alone, an amazing feat considering I was so scared of ghosts my sophomore year of college that I slept on my roommate's floor for three straight months. And, it was also the first year I've ever really experienced casual dating.
This is because dating in college is much, much different than dating in real life. For example, in college, if I met a guy one night at, say, Dill Street (RIP), the odds were very much in my favor that not only someone in my vast social network would know him, but that at least one of my friends had probably kissed him at some point in our college career. I once met a guy in the van ride home from Lickey Split, hands-down the best unsanctioned event BSU offers, only to have him kiss me as we were parting our way to separate bars. The rest of the night, I talked to all my friends about how incredible it was I'd actually met someone none of us knew, a virtually unheard of scenario at Ball State.
I went to my final the next morning to find he was the guy who had been sitting in front of me all semester in my Geography class and, let me tell you, both of us were equally shocked when he turned around to hand me my test.
Lickety Split -- the only place where it's widely acceptable to carry around a baby worm on your finger, name him Dudley and declare him your best friend before dropping him, losing him and bursting into tears.
I'd be lying if I said things like that don't happen to me in NYC (see: Sam, see: yoga instructor, see: Grouper date), but, on average, the amount of times I've gone out with a dude my friends actually know here is very, very slight. Some of the dates have been incredible, some have been even less than underwhelming.
Still, I believe all of them are good stories.
Casually dating in New York has been a bizarre experience and one I've enjoyed sharing with the people who read my blog. So, for the end of 2015, here it is -- the 15 men I went out with this year.
1. Not Zach Groth
My first date in New York City was not only monumental because he was the first person I was going out with in Manhattan, but also because Not Zach Groth was my first-ever Tinder date. I had my doubts about meeting up with an Internet stranger, but after sharing my location and sending multiple screenshots of his face to Chelsea, I made my way down to a SoHo bar on a Saturday night in January.
Our date went well -- I wrote about it here -- and, with the fuel of alcohol, math jokes and a walk around Washington Square Park, I started to feel more comfortable with the thought of going out with a potential stranger, especially if that potential stranger was a 28-year-old doctor who lived in Brooklyn and thought it was cute, not quirky, I had a collection of hats from Urban Outfitters.
There was, however, something I left out about the date when I wrote that blog post so many months ago.
I actually left out this detail to a lot of people, had even left out of telling Real Zach Groth about it until a few days later, when the two of us were a few beers deep at Barfly. So, here it goes:
Not Zach Groth really, really wanted me to come back to Brooklyn with him that night. Still not entirely sure if this Internet stranger was going to stab me, I declined. And, then, he said the thing that caused Real Zach Groth's jaw to drop, then immediately order another round of shots when I told him.
"Well, that's okay...," Not Zach Groth muttered as we walked toward the subway. "I guess I'll just jerk off to thinking about you later."
My doubts about dating an Internet stranger had once again returned, but as I descended the subway stairs, he spun me around, then kissed me so forcibly that it was clear he was trying to get me to change my mind about going home to the Upper East Side.
I extracted myself from his embrace, then said words that, once again, caused Real Zach Groth to put his head in his hands when I told him I'd countered this kiss with: "I guess you can just jerk off to that later."
Real Zach Groth was horrified by my actions.
Not Zach Groth did not understand why I didn't want to have a second date.
2. Derm-ey Jermey
I met Jermey during a time in my life where the only bar Zach and I ever frequented was Barfly. We were sharing a booth with our friends Adam and Shanice when a man walked by, clearly heading for the door. I was juuuuuust drunk enough to tell him I liked his face and he immediately turned around.
For the rest of the night, Jermey and I sat in the booth at Barfly, discussing our jobs (me: a designer at TIME, him: the dermatologist that literally half of the staff at TIME uses) and our lives. He was a cool guy, but after our initial meeting, we did not make plans to see each other again. This is partly due to the fact it was too weird for me to be going out with a guy who has seen half my office naked and, also, because Adam was not a fan.
Adam is a fan of approximately 1% of the men I date
3. Leo, the Least Funny Comedian
Out of all the dates I went on this year and not including the date where I was almost sexually assaulted, my date with Leo had to have been the worst.
This was probably for a lot of reasons, the first being that, despite being employed as a comedian, he was the most boring person I've ever met in my life. The only redeeming factor of our date was that we were supposed to meet up at his comedy club, but I was running late with other plans, so I missed what was likely a complete disaster of a show.
My friend Abby and I were sitting at the back table of a bar I'd never been to when Leo and his friend walked in. He shook my hand with the weakest effort, made a lame joke that was so bad, even I (an avid lover of corny jokes) didn't laugh, then proceeded to argue with me about Kanye West for the entirety of the night.
I only saw Leo once after our date and it was completely by accident. I was on the subway, dripping sweat from hot yoga and, also, eating an apple. (If you couldn't tell, this is not an ideal look). We made eye contact in recognition and slight horror, then refused to acknowledge each other for the rest of the train ride. The experience was so awkward, I told myself I'd never go back to the bar we'd had our date at, lest he be there and, for some reason, approach me with another terrible joke or reference the fact I look awful when I eat fruit.
Eight months later, I'd unknowingly walk into the same bar. I had been on a terrible date (though, not as bad as the one I'd been on with Leo), Chelsea had been getting drinks with a friend and we'd met up to recap our evenings at a place we'd picked solely because of the cute lightbulbs outside.
While there, I would meet Jake, the last person I'd go on a date with in 2015.
4. Jamie, the skateboarder from the tea shop
Jamie was important to me because he represented almost everything I am not. He was an unemployed skateboarder. He once saw a man being stabbed to death outside his apartment in Bed-Stuy and it did not scare him. He loved drugs. He had two roommates and his room had a skylight, but no window.
He did not see how any of these things were a problem for someone who was almost 30.
We both liked earl grey tea, though. This was a fact we learned when we shared a table at a tea shop in Flatiron, then spent two hours getting to know each other before he asked me out on a real date.
Months later, I'd somehow find myself at his death metal concert in Bushwick and, yet another time after that, he'd drive me home, a lit candle substituting as an air freshener the entire way, him oblivious to the terror I felt every time we approached a stop sign and the flame dangerously lurched.
On one of my last dates with Jamie, I was standing on his skateboard and he was holding my hand, pulling me down the streets of Brooklyn. We were laughing, both a little bit drunk after splitting beers at one of my favorite bars and, when he stopped the skateboard to kiss me, I was happy, even though it was very obvious this relationship was never going to work out.
That weekend, Jamie turned 30 and dropped a bunch of acid on a camping trip with his friends.
I never saw him again.
5. The Alchemist
If you had met me in June, you'd quickly learn I was completely obsessed with the book, "The Alchemist." One year earlier, my good friend Sarah had been reading it while I was re-reading my favorite book, "One Hundred Years of Solitude." The two of us discussed the concept of magical realism constantly and even attempted to start a wine-and-cheese book club, though that actually usually just ended with us going to the alcohol store, purchasing the wine bottle with the best design, then drinking all of it while sitting on my couch and watching shows featuring Chef Gordon Ramsey.
Because of our very real, very immediate love of Chef Gordon Ramsey and wine, I never read "The Alchemist," but when I was in a bookstore one day this summer, I saw a copy of it, immediately thought of the strong praise Sarah had given the book, both drunk AND sober, and bought it on the spot.
I must have done this twice because, one day, while lying on my couch and looking at my bookshelf, I realized I had not one, but two copies of "The Alchemist."
This felt like a sign that I should probably start to read the book.
Twenty pages in, I was already obsessed. If anyone approached me, no matter the conversation, all I could talk to them about was their Personal Legend and if they were on the path they were truly meant to go down. Because I had two copies, I carried one of them with me constantly -- whether that be to work, on the subway or, yes, even to bars.
And, so, enter the man I now call the Alchemist.
Zach, Abby and I went out one night in June and ended up at a club. We were on the dance floor when I met the gaze of a guy who was completely my type: tall, skinny, dark-hair, terrible dance moves. I made my way over to him, we did our awkward dance moves next to each other for a few songs, then we went to the bar to sit and talk.
And, as with any other conversation I had that month, I started talking to him about "The Alchemist."
We talked about other things as well -- his life growing up in Brooklyn, how he cared for his brother, who fell on the severe spectrum of autism, how his family once won the lottery -- and, despite being at a crowded club, the entire conversation felt very genuine and very real. We actually talked for so long that night became morning and, as we left the bar and began to walk down the softly-lit streets of Manhattan, we found ourselves quite suddenly sitting across from each other at a diner.
As our impromptu meal ended, our talk once again returned to "The Alchemist." He hadn't read it, but we'd been chatting for awhile about our Personal Legends when, on a complete whim, I dug into my bag, grabbed the copy I'd been carrying around, wrote down my phone number and told him not to contact me until he had finished the book. Then, I walked away, leaving both him and the book behind.
Zach, again, was horrified. Convinced I don't know how to talk to men, he told me the likelihood of this man ever calling me was nonexistent because I'd basically told him to give me a book report before he could take me on another date.
And, for five months, I believed him to be correct in that assessment.
Until.
In a bizarre turn of events, the weekend after I'd given away my second copy of the book, I went back to Massachusetts and dropped my remaining copy in the ocean. Thus, I never finished it. When I received that text, I was too embarrassed to admit to that, even after giving him what was basically homework, I'd never finished "The Alchemist," so I never replied to his message.
So, I may never get to know the Alchemist's Personal Legend, but I'm pretty sure I found mine in proving Zach Groth wrong.
6. Sam, the rat Scientist
Sam and I went on five dates before he kissed me. Because of this, I was constantly confused and concerned that we were just friends and I had no idea. He was a tall, hipster doctorate candidate who often killed his rats for research, but would send me photos of them alive, which led all of our conversations about the animals to become sad and awkward.
Zach, Ashley and I spend at least one conversation a month trying to figure out what went wrong with Sam and I. We've narrowed it down to it being the last time we spoke, we talked about:
being stabbed repeatedly
UTI's
the time Jamie drove me home with a lit candle in the car
very gory details of how to kill a rat
him being a vegan
the tattoo he wanted on his arm of a sutured rat brain (see below) which, I'm sorry, looked much too similar to a diagram of a specific womanly body part for me to take seriously
It could also be because Zach hijacked our second date and ate all of my rice with Sam's fork. Because Zach's roommate is (somehow, because life is weird) Sam's childhood best friend, all I know about him now is that he got back together with his ex-girlfriend and still really, really likes talking about killing his rats.
No update on the tattoo.
7. The Yoga Instructor
Everything I could ever say about going out with someone who worked at my studio is summed up in this piece I've already written, although I will note someone once told me I could finally consider myself an Upper East Side New Yorker after fulfilling the stereotype of dating a yoga instructor.
8. SamPSON, the worst human
Sampson was the actual worst person I have ever gone out with. Not only did he not accept that I did not want to sleep with him, causing me to basically run into traffic to get away from him at the end of our date, he also called me "Babe" at least twelve times in the three hours we were together and tried to order a cocktail at The Pony Bar, arguably the best craft beer establishment in my area of the city.
Though I've ignored his texts and calls since we went out, I have heard from our mutual acquaintance that Sampson is still very interested in taking me on a second date.
I am not.
9. Joey, my Jewish Brother
If I could give out an award for the sweetest person I went out with this year, Joey would hands-down be the recipient. This is probably because he was only 21 and, therefore, basically still a child.
Joey took me to a bar that I'm pretty sure was also a dungeon, but it was okay, because he wore a neon orange jacket, so it was easy to see him in the dark light. I had a really good time with Joey -- he was smart, sweet and funny, but was just starting his senior year of college, so we were in very, very different places in our lives.
Also.
Halfway during our date, I couldn't figure out why he looked so familiar until, suddenly, it dawned on me: he looked almost exactly like my brother, Jonny, if we had been born into a Jewish family.
We did not go out again.
10. Matty D, the man who hates sand
Matty D looked as if he had once played the heartthrob, probably named Pete, in a Mary-Kate and Ashley film about them living near the ocean. More specifically, a film about them being in the Witness Protection Program where they are relocated to Australia and then spend most of their time being chased by assassins, but finally catch the bad guy by throwing a boomerang at his plane. (Great movie).
Okay, he looked like this:
I met Matty D while on vacation for the weekend in Dewey Beach with Chelsea, Alberto and Adam. The four of us spent the day on the beach, lying in the sun and getting tipsy off beer, but before we left to go get ready for the rest of our evening, we offered our remaining alcohol to the two hot, yet fratty-looking guys who'd been sitting near us discussing Daft Punk literally all day.
Because Dewey Beach is basically the size of my hand (which, for the record, is tiny), I ran into one of the guys at a bar later that night. He introduced himself as Matt (I refer him Matty D because it's way funnier and way frattier than just Matt) and, close up, he was even hotter than I'd originally thought, his blonde hair sticking up, yet unexpectedly smooth in the summer heat. And, though he really did look as if he belonged in Australia or on the roof of a fraternity house, he actually lived in D.C., where he was an ex-college lacrosse player who now worked for the Library of Congress.
The bars in Dewey close at 1 a.m., a bananas-crazy early time for those of us who live in cities like Manhattan. I'd ran into Matty D at about 12:30 a.m., so we'd only had half an hour to interact by the time the bouncers were shepherding us out of the establishment that had a floor made of sand. Remembering we still had leftover beer in our cooler/bathtub from the day's beach activities, I hopped onto Matty D's back, then invited him and his friend to come drink with us in our hotel room.
Our hotel was small to begin with, but it felt even tinier with all six of us stuffed in there, laying down across the floors and beds to make room for our bodies and the bathtub beer. Luckily (and, instantly proving 3/4 of us live in New York), we chose the place we were staying not for the size, but for the location -- it was literally right next to the ocean. So, we made our way down to the sand where we'd all met previously that day, laying down in a line with our feet facing the water and our heads gazing up at the stars.
It was there, while I was looking up mesmerized at the sky when Matty D pulled me in for a kiss I happily reciprocated. We were still kissing a few minutes later when, intwined under the stars, I felt immeasurable pleasure radiating from around me.
It was not coming from me. And, it wasn't coming from Matty D, though both of us were quite pleased with our current situation.
It was coming from Alberto.
Alberto was ecstatic that Matty D and I had met and, even now, still talks about him as a valid candidate for someone I should end up with. I think this may be because Alberto and I met literally the day after I broke up with my boyfriend of three-and-a-half years. Therefore, while he was witness to a few of my more questionable college flings, he has yet to see me fall in love in the four years that have passed since.
I wholeheartedly believe that when I do fully commit myself to someone, Alberto will be happier than the two of us combined... thus, the distinct happiness in him when he saw I was engaging in contact with someone who met his requirements for my boyfriend (i.e., someone who weighs over 130 pounds -- after once seeing a photo of Sam, Alberto is concerned I only date very skinny dudes).
Anyway, Alberto's happiness began to vanish a few moments later, when Matty D started joking around about how angry he was that I was getting sand in his hair, which was funny until I realized he was not kidding and was absolutely, positively frat-boy style angry at his perfect hair being ruined by nature.
Shortly after, he kissed me once more, then left to go shower the sand out of his head.
I've heard from Matty D a few times after we both left Dewey. I promised to let him know whenever I came to D.C. and he said he'd do the same for when he traveled to Manhattan. Neither of us have followed up on said promises, though I don't know if that's because we both haven't gone to each other's cities or if he's genuinely still upset about the sand in his hair.
Honestly -- it's probably a little bit of both.
11-12. the blind date(s)
Though I actually went on a blind date with three men at the same time, I've decided to only include two of them in my "List of Guys I Went Out With in 2015," mostly because only these two called me the next day and also because the third one vomited all up on the sidewalk at the end of the night.
Being an uncomfortably awkward person, I had no idea how to interact on a Grouper date. I'd been thrust into a situation with three strange men and, with no previous protocol to draw from, was friendly with all of them -- especially when we went to a club and there was a brief moment where I rapped Kanye West while doing terrible dance moves. Though I think I was supposed to only focus on the person I had the best connection with, I am bad at making decisions -- thus, I thought I connected well with all of them, which made me a confused human being when I woke up the next morning.
In the days that followed the Grouper date, I was still unsure on how to act -- obviously, I didn't want to be two-timing friends -- but, eventually, contact with all the guys began to fade out... save for AJ, the one who'd kissed me on the sidewalk as his friend threw up next to us at the end of the date.
Literally every time AJ calls me, I am doing the same thing -- sitting on my couch, eating a chicken sandwich. This is because every time AJ calls me, it is between the hours of 3 - 4 a.m. and, if I'm awake at those times, the odds I'm either eating Green Kitchen or waiting for the Seamless delivery man to arrive with my sandwich from Green Kitchen are very high in your favor.
This does not impress AJ, who clearly is only interested in sleeping with me, but it is very impressive to me, because I am not interested in sleeping with AJ, but am quite interested in seeing how long it takes before the Seamless delivery man tells me I have eaten an abnormally high abundance of chicken sandwiches this year.
I think that sums up about how well I do on group dates.
13. HITCH
Despite being a dating coach and, therefore, being sort of a toolbag, Hitch was probably a pretty nice guy. He struck up a conversation with me while I was writing in the same tea shop I'd met Jamie in and, while our subsequent dates were fine, I wanted to end it after I realized he looked too oddly similar to my uncle.
This, by the way, is not a fun conversation to have with someone. After our date where I'd lied and said I had to go because my apartment was on fire, Hitch asked me out again. I tried to craft a text message that nicely conveyed my feelings toward him, but gave up and handed my phone over to Zach to do the work for me. (Full disclosure: if I am breaking up with you via text message, the likelihood that it is actually Zach Groth is, like, 99%).
14. the Hot Ocean Hipster
Anyone who has a man bun, took me to a 90s cover band and kissed me in the ocean as the sun was setting over our heads even when my best friend (ahem, ZG) was causing a scene by almost drowning a football field's length away is a solid dude.
15. Jake
On my first date with Jake, I told him the truth about why I'd left the bar early the night we'd met -- it was because I wanted to go home and eat a chicken sandwich.
I was expecting the reaction I usually would get from AJ, which was a combination of annoyance and disgust, and, in my mind, could literally hear Zach yelling at me to stop telling men this on first (or, any) dates. Instead, Jake looked me straight in the eye, then in his stupid-cute Southern accent told me something I never expected to hear after that story: "Well, I am just smitten with you."
That's when I knew that maybe this was going to be a little bit different than my previous dates of 2015.
When I got the idea to write this blog post, I immediately text Zach and Ashley about it. I thought it was perfect that I've gone out with exactly 15 men in 2015 and it was even more perfect that Jake, number 15, is probably the first guy within that count where I'd be genuinely upset if we just one day stopped talking.
"Basically," I wrote to Zach and Ashley in our text that morning, "it's the perfect post because it's ending 2015 like a beautiful goddamn fairy tale."
But, of course, that's not true. Life is not a goddamn fairy tale and modern dating is one of the most bizarre experiences I've ever put myself through. And, although Jake and I have had multiple, lovely dates since that first one, anything could happen... he could disappear, like Jamie or get a terrible tattoo of what most of the population will assume is a vagina, like Sam or, more likely, he could get entirely freaked out because I forgot to tell him I was going to be writing about him on the Internet.
Even so, this year was not a fairy tale -- that much is certain -- but, still, I'm very content with my life right now.
And, that is goddamn beautiful.