The boy next door

I have a best friend. He is a boy. We love each other – but not like that. And I don’t know why.

Now, friends, we all have one. A platonic best friend of the opposite sex. Or at least a best friend of the opposite sex who is now a platonic friend, but who may have been the boy you lusted after through high school or spent eight years sleeping with in between your serious relationships, only to find yourself back in a deep platonic friendship and both single as you both embark on adulthood. Also, he’s Jewish.

Let’s call said complicated, platonic best friend Boy Next Door (BND), which is exactly who he is: my family’s best friend’s son. He lived down the block from me in my hometown and he recently moved to my neighborhood. Needless to say, we started spending tons of time together. Our banter is deep and we have a ton in common, including going through a great career and life transition at exactly the same time. We bond over this. We do things like go to the movies, grab drinks, have dinner, take long walks in
the park and go to parties together. We do the things that you would do with your significant other — except sleep together.

I know what you’re thinking: “Don’t you see! This is it! BND is who you have been looking for this whole time.” And it feels romantic, because it is just like the million and one movies that have been made about exactly this situation. Love was staring you in the face all along! You even know the sex is good. And as I progress in this alleged platonic friendship I begin to wonder, are we both just missing the big picture? If we dove into a relationship would we save ourselves all this “single at 30” trouble? Like When Harry Met Sally, what is stopping us?

Have you and your friend of the opposite sex ever decided to start dating? Did it work out or did it backfire? Is there even such a thing as platonic friends of the opposite sex? Share your thoughts here!

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Published:
October 5, 2010 – 7:36 am
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By dg
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A Little Help From Your Friends?

Hello! Yes, NYC is swimming with 29-year-old single women and I’m one of them. My story is no different from the vast majority of you that are reading this blog. I’ve lived in NYC for about five years and have had two serious relationships but neither has lasted longer than a year. I recently dipped my feet back into the dating pool but refuse to get my hair wet because I’ll be moving to San Francisco for a few months. Okay, enough pool metaphors. Summer is over.

The past few months have been a unique time in my life because I am single but not looking for a relationship. And yes, it’s true what your friends annoyingly tell you – when you’re not looking, the men will find you. So now I’m dating an awesome guy and we’re trying to get to know one another without getting too serious. Or something like that. And that’s all the news that’s fit to print. Let’s go back to what my friends say. I want to talk about what roll our friends play in our dating lives. It’s unavoidable. We’ve all asked our friends for dating advice. So I pose this question to fellow NYC daters, (yes, in a Carrie – Sex and the City – way); does it help to follow our friends’ dating advice or are we better off making our own decisions. And how does one know what is good advice?

A long while ago, I dated a guy who canceled our fourth date last minute. At the urging of my former roommate, I wrote him an angry text against my better judgment. I had suspected he canceled due to an illness but my roommate though I should be tough. It backfired and the next day, I received an unnecessarily nasty text – ending our budding relationship. In this case, I avoided dating a jerk. Fast forward two years later. Last March marked the beginning of the end of my relationship with my most recent ex. I was urged by a (former) friend to act cool when my boyfriend wasn’t calling me back and give him some space. I suspected he couldn’t be manipulated into treating me better and his actions indicated that the relationship was over. So I bit the bullet, confronted him head on about his behavior and we broke up. Following my friend’s advice would have only delayed the inevitable and I would have continued being miserable in a relationship that wasn’t working for either of us. I should note, however, that friends who knew me for a long time and had met him were wary of our relationship and my gut told me it wasn’t working.

Looking at it from a different perspective, I give advice to my friends all the time. We all do it. We try hard to understand their situation and understand who their date is – sometimes without having met them. We almost always (at least women) value our friends in a higher esteem than they value themselves. So advice either falls into two categories depending on the friend; “you’re way too good for him” or “I’m sure he’s just really busy” and telling them what they want to hear. But in all honesty, we can’t read the minds of their dates any more than we can figure out the people we’re dating. In fact, we’re more likely to damage their relationships – encouraging our friends to play hard to get when they naturally don’t play games, or causing our friends to send confusing, inconsistent signals that don’t mesh with their actions.

The more I think about it, the more I realize it’s better to just be yourself, through and through. After all, I’m dating you, and not your friends. What do you think? Do you take dating advice from your friends? And has it hurt or helped your relationships?

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Published:
September 21, 2010 – 9:35 pm
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By m
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Turning XXX

I’m nearing thirty and I’m single, which is as weird to write as it is to say, but there it is: the truth. Single is something I never cared about in my twenties. I had boyfriends, I had boy toys, I had no-one, but no matter what I always had fun. Fun was it for me. I was a singer/songwriter who worked in nightlife for God’s sake. Free music, free booze, free love, free friends – all the time.

Then my 29th birthday rolled around. Reality set in and not in that cliche, my eggs will dry up so I better find a baby daddy sort of way; but rather, my life is long, my friends are married (some with children) and I am in the same place I have been since I turned 18 sort of way. Oh my God.

So I jumped ship. Suddenly long term was my end game. I changed careers, I changed neighborhoods, I got a puppy (admittedly, I got the puppy to replace my last boyfriend, but still) and I slowed down. It was then that I wondered how my friends could do this. Slow down? Lay low? Spend a night in alone? “This sucks,” I thought, and then it dawned on me: these friends are not alone. They have someone. Someone they love.

Love?

Well let’s start there. Love for me has always included four things: a man, some booze, a great party and drama. It never involved laying low and — I will say it — never involved an entire night in. And while it involved commitment, on a deeper level, it never actually implied anything long term. Not in my head, anyway. Each day came as it came and went as it went and usually started again the same way — with a hangover.

Love for me was not about settling. We all use the word settle in different circumstances, but when we talk about settling in love some talk about settling for, some talk about settling with. There is a difference and I have constantly lived in fear of the former. See, I have stipulations on my love life. I am Jewish and essentially will only marry another Jew. Now, those who know me know that I don’t abide by rules. And marrying Jewish is a rule, so I break it. Often. That said, the rule keeps its claws in me (no matter how lightly) and I always return to it. This leaves me able to continue to break this rule while at the same time use it to foster my commitment phobia. In other words, I only dated boys I knew I could not end up with because none of them were Jewish. To me this meant I was not settling for some boring existence; I was living on the edge, living dangerously! Not settling for, not settling with, not settling down.

I’ve been dating and it is fun, but this time it is different because I am looking for something with an actual future. So here I am. Finally, slate wiped clean. On the verge of turning thirty, my entire life is ahead of me only this time I am aware of the implications of my decisions and so I want to settle down with the right person.

Have you changed the way you view dating and love as you reached a certain age? What influenced your decision to change?

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Published:
September 14, 2010 – 2:12 pm
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By dg
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How not to be a tourist… Part 2

The first part of this series turned out to be surprisingly popular and because the list of things tourists do to infuriate New Yorkers is endless I figured why not write a follow up.

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk

In big cities like New York where most people don’t own cars and navigate the city on foot the sidewalk is our equivalent of a highway, which means if you want to stop to check your map or take a photo you need to pull over. If you suddenly stop there’s a chance you’ll get something spilled all over you by a now irate New Yorker.

Imagine if you suddenly slammed on the breaks while driving in the fast lane of the highway. Well guess what, that’s the same as stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, just with a little less head trauma and a lot less death.

One of the things you quickly learn to do in New York is multitask whilst walking, for example most can respond to a BBM without looking at their phone, or for some seasoned professionals even taking it out of their pocket.

Know your bearing

Nothing shouts newbie like someone who steps out of the subway into the sunlight and stands around trying to figure out which way is north. Every New Yorker knows which way north is at all times, even if they’re underground.

Going downtown on the 6 train? Well that means you’re heading south. If you were to get off the train at 33rd street then you’d be facing west, and when you go up the stairs you’re facing north. Simple!

New Yorkers do this subconsciously at all times, no matter where they are.

I <3 New York T-Shirts

I don’t know anyone, especially anyone female, who’d be caught dead wearing one of these. We know you love New York, it’s why you moved here. In fact everyone loves New York… with the exception of Los Angelians who love spending their lives in their cars using drive through ATMs.

Umbrella Etiquette

Maybe it’s just me but there’s definitely a difference in the way people use their umbrellas in touristy parts of the city. Walking down Canal Street or trying to navigate Times Square in the rain always a challenge, maybe people aren’t used to the rain or they think they need to buy an extra large umbrella for the ferocious New York rain they read so much about, who knows.

I’d chalk it up to standard human behavior, but walking up 6th Ave on a rainy Monday morning is so different. People with compact umbrellas, weaving in and out of each others way like ballerinas. It’s almost… poetic.

As a New Yorker you’re going to have a symbiotic relationship with your umbrella because you’re going to be spending a depressing amount of time under one. It’s going to become an extension of your arm, your shield and occasional weapon.

Have you just moved to New York? What habits have you picked up since moving here?

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Published:
August 31, 2010 – 9:16 am
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By j
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Clueless

I have an update for you about “Bad” from Dating and Communication Part II: The Double Edged Sword.

When he was Facebook messaging our mutual friend to ask her to hook a brother up, she suggested that if he really wants to give it one more chance with me, he should send me an email along the lines of “Hey d, I think you’re a really cool girl and we have a lot in common. We might have gotten off to the wrong start, but I’m interested in you and I hope we can meet.” Which would have been a sane and reasonable next step.

Does he take my friend’s sage advice? Or does he send me another instant message on [dating site] and spell my name WRONG.

You guessed it.

Wow. I was in shock. So, as I explained before, he knows my gmail address. He could have emailed me. He could have gchatted me, a much more acceptable form of instant message. Yet he chooses to instant message me on a DATING WEBSITE (which I don’t even see until I get an email after the fact, by the way). And to throw fuel to the fire, he misspells my name?!

We were Facebook friends, until he defriended me. We were gchat friends. We still are LinkedIn friends. My name is all over these places, and he couldn’t spell it correctly in a message to me?

Even worse, the message was disgustingly cheesy and cringe-inducing. It even rhymed.

“Hey de, what’s it gonna be?”

No joke. I immediately sent this to our mutual friend and she was in shock. She called me the next day, profusely apologizing again for not knowing he was crazy. Although she did suggest that the misspell might have been intentional, to be cutesy and match the word “be,” but I am more inclined to think he really spelled it wrong and had no idea. And that offends me.

It would have been one thing if I never heard from him again — after all, he did defriend me on Facebook. But I did hear from him again, and it wasn’t to take our friend’s good advice. No, it was to behave in the exact same way that made me scared of him in the first place!

Like I said, some people just don’t get it.

Have you ever dated someone who was clueless or just didn’t get it?

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Published:
August 16, 2010 – 3:16 pm
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By d
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How to not be a tourist…

You’ve just moved to New York! Congratulations! Don’t get too excited though because as far as the locals are concerned you’re still a tourist.

Lucky for you it’s possible to fake-it-til-you-make-it in New York, everyone’s doing it already, so why shouldn’t you? Here’s a few things you can do to speed up the process of playing the part of a dyed in the wool local.

Your cell phone is your best friend

No New Yorker leaves their apartment without a cell phone, nor do they sit anywhere without putting it on the table or nearest flat surface. The only exception is when they’re on a date when it’s in their pocket/purse on vibrate.

Just remember when you go home to visit family that this is generally considered to be bad manners when in polite company, something New Yorkers are ambivalent of when it comes to their cellular best friend.

Is that a map in your pocket?

If you carry a street or subway map with you then you’re a tourist, no exceptions. I can picture you now standing on a street corner aimlessly spinning around trying to work out which way is north. It’s very simple, you either know where you’re going, know how to command a cab where to go or have a map application on your phone (the only acceptable kind of map).

If you must carry a map with you then discretely hide it somewhere on your person (handbag/backpack/under a hat) and if you must consult it for your current whereabouts then do so from the privacy of an enclosed public space, such as a Starbucks bathroom of shame.

Houston Street

This one is a trap. It’s not pronounced like the city in Texas, but like the combination of house and ton. Houston. Practice it a few times and internalize it. Get it wrong and expect ridicule.

Looking up

Holy crap! A tall building! New Yorkers don’t care, we’ve seen a lot of them and we’re more concerned at looking down at the street so we don’t trip on that new pot hole which mysteriously appeared overnight. Some attest the appalling condition of the roads to snow plows, but I’m convinced there’s someone walking around the city digging new ones just to screw with the tourists.

Waving at a cab with the off duty light on

This one is a bit puzzling. Why have lights telling me you’re off duty? I don’t care. All I care about is whether or not I can sit in your car. Light on, game on. Light off, you’re out of luck. Either way, if you’ve lived here long enough you know the difference so don’t wave-like-you’re-drowning at a cab which isn’t going to pick you up. Nor do you try to get in one that’s at a stop light.

If you’ve had a few drinks though it’s acceptable to get in any car at a stop light. Cab or not.

Not understanding the importance of storage

If you go to someone’s apartment and they start showing you where they store all their stuff, “Look, we can store skis in the banisters of the stairs!” then you need to make a big deal about it. When you’re living in 250sq/ft then every inch counts, you’d know this if you weren’t still living in a hotel trying to find an apartment for under $1,200 in the city.

The same applies to washer dryers, so when you’re viewing your new apartment if it just so happens to include one in the unit make sure you go suitably ape-shit over it. Ignore the fact that you have a massive balcony, ceiling fans or a robotic live in maid and just jump up and down pointing at what the rest of the world considers a mundane clothes cleaning device.

What are your signs that someone is obviously a tourist and needs to get the hell out of your way?

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Published:
June 28, 2010 – 10:16 pm
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By j
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The One Night Boyfriend

Ever have a boyfriend?

For the night.

As enjoyable as it is to snuggle up in bed/futon/couch with your honey watching romantic comedies, this isn’t that kind of boyfriend.  I’m talking about the one-night-boyfriend.

Yes, it’s different than the one night stand. Sure, relationships of all types pop up all year round, but there’s undeniably something about summer (perhaps the hot weather putting us all in heat?) that makes the not-so-serious-one-night-relationship more prevalent than ever. And with the renewed party scene, all kinds of new “friendships” are being made among single frisky New Yorkers. Especially among those that flock to the Hamptons. Heck, it’s nice! I mean, why can’t we all indulge in a fun, no drama, low key “relationship” now and then? Or for the night? Especially until we find something or someone (maybe at Talkhouse?) that’s worth investing our time in.

Here’s the thing. There are lots of “rules” when it comes to dating – don’t date your friends ex, try not to sleep with him on the first date, only date guys that are above 6ft tall (oh, just me?). Anyway, for some reason, the rules seem to change during the summer. The rules REALLY change during the summer in the Hamptons.

Now, this “boyfriend for the night” phenomenon is an interesting one. Here’s what usually occurs. You head out for the night with a large group of friends. The booze starts flowing. You meet someone cute. Someone single. You start dancing. Maybe he twirls you a few times.  For the majority of the  night, you don’t leave each other’s sides. You make-out in public. You hold hands. You act all, well, couple-y. It might stop at that, or it might progress into a slumbie…. which usually entails a very romantic cuddle session spent on a blow up air mattress… with three of your friends sleeping on the surrounding beds in the same room. (Ahh, so college!) Either way, when morning comes, the “relationship” ends. And here’s the thing. Next Friday, you’ll have a new “boyfriend”.

Good plan? I know you’re all down with that. Because here’s the great thing about the one-night-boyfriend! You have a guaranteed dancing partner/twirler for the whole night. You have someone to keep you warm on the air mattress when all the blankets are being used in your sharehouse. And, best of all, there’s absolutely no commitment. Except for maybe calling them a cab in the morning. We all know it’s difficult to find someone great, someone you connect with, someone who is worth calling boyfriend. But, until that time comes, this type of ”boyfriend” is actually pretty easy to find, with a little coconut-scented elbow grease.  If you’re willing to get chatty and get a little bit uninhibited, this ride has seats for you.

So, buckle up! Take a trip to hot-summer-one-night-boyfriend town. Population: you and someone… you don’t even know yet.

Have you ever had a boyfriend–for-the-night? Have your friends? Please, share your stories and thoughts!

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Published:
June 17, 2010 – 10:06 am
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My Best Friend’s A Player…Yours Should Be Too

Ladies of New York City, I’m talking to you…so listen up.

A couple of weekends ago, I went to brunch with one of my oldest and best guy friends. He’s my best friend from when we were young. Like we go wayyyy baaaack. Anyway, he’s the heterosexual, interested-in-ladies type. And, I should mention, our friendship is COMPLETELY platonic. No accidental drunken make-outs or getting to second base in our puberty days. We’re just friends. For real. Now, at first glance, my buddy comes off as incredibly witty, attractive, understanding and kind. Which he is…to ME. BUT, to other girls, he can in fact be a player. For the most part, when it comes to his social agenda, he has only one agenda. He looks out for numero uno (and some good ‘ol fun) in any and all situations.

Here’s the thing though. He’s legit up front about the fact that he can be kind of a jerk. He’s fully aware of the way that he treats other girls. He doesn’t try to hide it. He’s open about the fact that he’s usually just looking for a good time. And as a platonic friend, well, he’s actually the best friend a girl could ask for. Being friends with him is truly a constant eye opening experience. Since we are close friends, its not like he has anything to hide from me about his hookups, thoughts on girls, and on how guys should approach dating.  Even when I ask nicely, he won’t sugarcoat it, he doesn’t beat around the bush, and he won’t lie to me. As the saying goes – like a nice, kosher hot dog, he is 100% real beef, 100% of the time.

He gives me concise – and brutally honest – advice.

At times, I just need to complain to someone. Heck, we all do! But other times, I just want to hang out and not be badgered with questions. I need to hang out with someone who won’t encourage my (always incredibly unhelpful and unproductive) obsessing and over analyzing.  In other words, he gets the job done. And he get’s it done well. He gives me the straight up, no chaser, no bullshit, kind of feedback that I (always and constantly) need.

In fact, on our recent brunch date, he offered me some much needed dating advice. Despite my splitting headache, I took a large sip of my bloody mary and braced myself.

It doesn’t matter how much he’s contacting you. It doesn’t matter if he’s reaching out every freakin day. If he’s not making plans to see you… he’s probably juggling many other girls simultaneously and keeping you in the rotation.

Well, I will tell you one thing! He sure is a clear and direct communicator. Thanks, babe.

He’s always incredibly entertaining.

Every time we talk, he has a new story for me. He has a new girl(s) he’s digging. He has some new, crazy, adventure of a dating mishap or stage five clinger. Nothing surprises me with this guy. In fact, I remember one morning when we were rehashing a night out in the Hampton’s.

I ran into this chick I’ve known for a while. I took her home and we’ve been hanging out a bunch. She’s definitely into it. Anyway, she’s leaving the country for the rest of the summer in a few weeks, so I’ll have an easy out.

Yeah, nice. Typical. Really nice.

I guess, perhaps, I enjoy the inside perspective. If I didn’t have a friend like him I don’t think I would be so informed. I don’t think I’d be so entertained. I don’t think I’d have as much material for my blog posts!!

Here’s my point. Most guys at least TRY to hide their a-hole player side. (For the record, I know not all guys are bad.) I’m a nice person. And I’m looking for a nice guy. And it can be difficult to read between the sweet text messages, the comforting cuddles and the extravagant dinners.

He sets me up with good guys.

As a player himself, he can easily identify and recognize like-minded individuals. Basically, he knows which guys are the “good” ones. That being said, I know what I’m getting when he sets me up with someone. It helps to cut out a lot of the bullsh*t and saves me time. I owe him a lot for that. He can size up any guy that I’m seeing over a quick beer. And he’s not afraid to hurt my feelings and let me know when the dude is a total squid.

So bottom line? It’s incredibly worthwhile to befriend someone who is straight up about the fact that he is sometimes an a-hole and about the fact that some guys you meet will be too. Through being friends with him, most other guys seem better in comparison. And when I, inevitably, meet a douche-bag, I at least can see through him much more quickly and can get advice on how he operates much more effectively. And if or when I can’t, my bff will have my back and let me know.

That being said, just make sure to watch your back as well. And if you happen to meet my friend “so-and-so,” just be careful. And don’t say I didn’t warn you… :)

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Published:
June 11, 2010 – 7:44 am
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By A
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nycandlove blog on the radio TONIGHT

Tonight’s the night where you can listen to the nycandlove.com editorial team on the radio!  Please join us at 9 PM EST as we answer questions about love, dating and of course, nycandlove.

There are two ways to listen:

  • New York City – tune in at WKCR 89.9 FM
  • Outside New York City or not near a radio – listen online:
    http://www.wkcr.org/

Our interview will be broadcast on WKCR-FM, Columbia University’s non-commercial student-run radio station.

This is our first time being interviewed and our first time speaking publicly about nycandlove. We value your input and we hope to improve on our speaking in the future. We’ve got tons of great ideas — including podcasts — so we really welcome your feedback on our radio interview.

We would love it if you could tune in tonight and leave a comment here letting us know what you think!

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Published:
June 7, 2010 – 10:41 am
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By d
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Sex and the (Small) City

New York City is too f*cking small sometimes. Lately, I can’t turn around without walking into someone I’ve slept with.

I wasn’t feeling well at work and I wasn’t able to get anything done for a couple of hours. As a result, I stayed later than normal so I could finish everything up. So I leave work and walk to the subway that I take home every day. I’m waiting for the train when I glance behind me, over to the side, and. And.

The Hamburglar.

He was there. In my subway. By my job. Downtown. The Hamburglar, who has taken the subway about five times throughout his many years living in Manhattan. Who lives and (usually) works uptown. At the same subway station as me. At the same time — a time I am not even usually there. Someone tell me — what are the chances?

I just kept thinking: “I’m not even supposed to be here today!”

Although if I looked pretty I probably wouldn’t be so distressed about this. I actually looked hideous. I’m not exaggerating or fishing for compliments.  I am aware that I am fairly attractive. But sometimes, like on this day, I workout in the morning and without showering go right to work. I have another two weeks before my appointment to tame my Jewfro and the weather was muggy. My hair was in a ponytail and I was wearing this headband that looked weird on my freakishly tiny head (and did I mention it was hot pink and purple? I never kid.) and I was wearing my Hunter boots in 82 degrees because Weather.com lied to me at 6 am when I left the house and said there would be guaranteed storms all day long.

Usually, I wear pretty summer dresses! I have an entire closet full of them!

F*CK.

So I wasn’t looking my best, I wasn’t feeling confident at all. I was caught off guard, which stresses me out. I was wearing some makeup, although I decided earlier in the day not to bother with mascara. I just felt . . . not myself.

Add to this the fact that I was coming off an absolutely amazing, perfect weekend with another boy, and I did not have a single thought of the Hamburglar for days. Of COURSE this is the time I would run into him — when he is, for once in my life, the last thing on my mind.

Just the week before, in fact, I ran into Mitchell. You might remember Mitchell from his appearance in I Only Have Eyes for You. And You., as “guy” from “Well, I came right to your apartment from having sex with another guy.”

It wasn’t as much of a shock that I ran into Mitchell, as we work in the same building complex — in fact, he is the reason I have my job there, as he found out about my job opening from a colleague and sent it over to me. We’ve run into each other before, although rarely. I looked hideous that day as well (I ran into him straight from the gym on a day I decided I didn’t need makeup since no one would be seeing me) and after that encounter decided I would always put on some makeup, even if I think I won’t be seeing any people. Then, as well, I was upset that I didn’t feel as confident and attractive as I can be.

It was only thanks to that incident that I was wearing any makeup at all today when I ran into the Hamburglar. We chatted the entire subway ride and I looked into his clear, sky blue eyes and instead of melting, as I usually (used to?) do, I felt only horror. Horror knowing on any other day I might have looked great and would have given anything to run into him. Although, as a person in the medical profession, he has seen images of the insides of my intestines. So I suppose I looked better than that.

I felt agitated and out of sorts for the rest of the night. And although I would not have gone home with him, I couldn’t help but feel slighted when he didn’t even ask me to. Is it because I look awful? I mean, he’s obviously seen me looking my best before, and at the very least looking very good. I even made it a point to go over there on New Years Eve, the day after my breakup from a one year relationship, just to make sure he would see me when I knew I looked gorgeous.

Seriously, what are the odds?! That of all people, all trains, all times, I would run into the one person who’s been hanging over my head for more than three years. Someone I’ve spent countless nights with. Someone I confessed my love to only to be shot down. Someone I continued to see even after that. Someone who NEVER EVEN TAKES THE SUBWAY.

MY subway! The place I go where I never have to think about seeing him. I walk past the Hamburglar’s apartment building multiple times a week — always looking out for him. He lives and works near my apartment. I could see him at any moment in our neighborhood, and I am fully aware of this fact. That I would see him out of this zone, when I am for once NOT looking around for him . . . Well that was just beyond my comprehension.

For all the people there are in New York City, when you’ve been single for as many years here as I have been, the city is just too small to not run into people you’ve banged.

Ever run into an old flame in an unusual place?

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Published:
June 7, 2010 – 8:38 am
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By d
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