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Monday nights in New York are a funny spectacle of human mating ritual. I keep forgetting that it has somehow become designated as “date night” in the city, and stumble into a mess.
If you go to any trendy place on a Monday in the Meatpacking District, Brooklyn, etc., you will see lots of people on dates. The girls compete with one another by showing public affection. At “The Otheroom” in the West Village, the darkly lit booths are all occupied with strangers making out. They are sending obvious messages to adjacent booths that they are having a better time.
I was at Santina last night, by the Whitney Museum, sitting at the bar eating, and a drunk late-20’s woman was giving her date a lap dance, basically, as they ate at the bar. She was on his lap rubbing his crotch as she ate an entree. Clearly, this was a “Monday date night” hookup with a stranger she met on Tinder. The guy had a smirk knowing that it looked ridiculous.
With internet tools like Tindr, most of these “dates” are between total strangers. They do this many nights a week and rationalize to themselves that they are “dating” rather than whoring themselves out for free meals.
Yesterday, on a Monday, not coincidentally, the Post ran a story giving dating advice, and what to do when a girl dates five-nights a week and becomes “numb inside”. I did not comprehend why they ran the story, but now I get it.
Serial dating is another addiction caused by the smartphone. It is stupid and annoying to observe.