In “Date-onomics: How Dating Became a Lopsided Numbers Game,” out today, Birger, a former writer for Fortune and Money magazines, crunched demographic, census and other data to show that it really is historically rough out there for the ladies.
After noticing that his single gal pals were always complaining that “guys were ignoring them or were toying with them,” Birger decided to investigate.
There was a drizzle of uneasy laughter from the men in line. These men weren't the living mannequins you see gliding on the roller skates of their good looks through Chelsea.
It was like a nightmarish game of dodgeball that would air on LOGO.
Better options include Silicon Valley, San Francisco, San Diego and Columbus, Ohio.
"I mean, I don't blame them, but it's not like I had a choice," I continued thinking to myself while mindlessly nodding along to what my fifth date was saying. Once everyone had registered, our organizer separated us into our respective groups. Whereas I tried to look as though I had just gotten off my fancy job as a writer, a majority of the men looked as though they had just left their shift at Aeropostale. Why were they dressed like that dude from high school who always tries to sell you knives when you run into him every trip back home?
"The online 'bottoms' sign-up sheet was all filled up! If I wanted to sail with the boys on this gay Noah's ark, I had to maybe fib to myself a little." And look where that got me. If you learn anything from me at all, it's that you should always dress how you want to feel, not how you actually feel.
(I'd like to go on record and say those men are horrible, and the human equivalent of a parfait.) The men here were normal dudes: mostly over 30, and mostly in custody of faces I almost instantly forgot. Have you ever been at a party and realized, with a cold sweat and a shiver of dread, that you were the smartest one in the room?
It's happened to me once before; I realized that if I was the smartest person in the room, then we were all screwed.