Nyc dating text messages

the state in which one’s dating life is no longer new or exciting and continues in its existing state of extreme banality, unless that state is changed by an external force.

In this case, my external force has a name; three names, actually: Amy, Janis and Lisa—all professional matchmakers.

While the idea originally seemed prohibitively expensive, most matchmakers don’t charge ladies a penny.

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They are gentlemen, scholars and “relationship-minded” (been there, played that, ready for the next phase). She even tries to set me up with a third fellow, who (due to my travel schedule) makes a date with me two weeks in advance, but texts me the day before: “Julia, hey, this is [redacted]. I’m sorry to get back to you on such short notice, but I am not going to be able to meet tomorrow. I’ve had actual boyfriends who haven’t been that conscientious.

Basically, I went out on a date with someone late last week, and saw her again this week. At the end of my dates, I ask Amy if the guys had any feedback.

We kinda hit it off, so I think I am going to focus on this. “There was the impression that you didn’t have time for dating,” she explains via e-mail. I thought that my insane schedule made me more desirable. The place is basically a bumping discotheque, with all the charm of Marquee. All are great in their own way, but the most memorable is Dr.

Janis Spindel is the undisputed grande dame of New York yentas, with an astronomical, almost unbelievable, success rate—more than 800 marriages! My hope fizzles when my date rolls up (in a town car that he had hired for the occasion). Why not just go to Cipriani’s for models and bottles? ” When I emerge, my date stood there smiling with two glasses of red and an admission that Bagatelle was indeed an awful choice, so would I mind if we moved to Aquagrill? Aquagrill is arguably one of the best restaurants in the city for first dates. boy for you, but that will probably happen after next week. James, who wins major points by suggesting a first-date itinerary that includes a live piano concert, then an Italian salmon-and-pasta dinner, followed by salsa dancing.

Out steps a fellow at least 20 years my senior, with what might charitably be described as “not quite a full head of hair.” He presents me with two CDs (Kings of Leon and some other group) still in their Virgin Megastore bag, and announces that we’d be going to Bagatelle. Fleeing to the ladies’ room, I hysterically Twitter “Oh my GOD. The atmosphere and meal are pitch-perfect, and he turns out to be energetic, funny, intelligent and interesting—and one of the least skeezy men I’ve met in New York. And he is.] He will be back on Monday and will call you. He has one of the most fantastic attitudes of any guy I’ve met in New York. “He thought that you two had the exact same energy and good chemistry,” she e-mails.

I had judged him on his age and his appearance, and I was ashamed of myself. 4- Steve is tall, dark and handsome, 40, in banking. “I’m from the Midwest,” he tells me, which explains it. “But,” she cautions, “he wasn’t sure if you were serious about finding love.” Oh no! I immediately text him and reassure him that once I’m back from Vegas, D. Nine men, 15 dates and approximately 57 text messages later, my conclusion is unambiguous: Matchmakers are the best thing to happen to my dating life since I hit puberty.

It isn’t a romantic match, but we have a solid basis for a friendship. 2- James, 42, is an adorable doctor, smart and quite the catch! He is also away until Monday, but he is dying to meet you. C., Munich, and Davos, Switzerland, I’d love to see him again. ” Okay, so he didn’t read my “Bad textiquette” column the other week.

They all have time to date, but they don’t have time to date the wrong people.

Just two minutes into our meeting, Amy tells me she has someone in mind for me: a 34-year-old Ben Affleck look-alike, Ivy League--educated banker. I explain that I’ve stereotyped bankers as boring fucks, but Amy tells me to trust her intuition. First, there’s Cameron (the aforementioned banker, who, true to Amy’s word, could easily double as Mr.

Jennifer Garner), then Kirby, a charming 41-year-old Upper West Side doctor-turned-hedge-funder-turned-philanthropist.

Both ask me on second dates midway through the first, and third dates midway through the second.


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