Single in the City: The one who dated strippers.

For my first random dating experience in NYC, I thought I'd share this little gem:

Last spring, I met a guy whom, for these purposes, I will call Ron. Now, like the majority of men that I've met this year, I met Ron in a bar. Ron had guts. He sat himself down at my table of 5 or 6 girls and started talking to me.

Now, Ron had 2 things going for him: he was super tall, and he was very funny. Genuinely funny. And with the kind of humor that I appreciate most, which, if you're wondering, is dry, sarcastic, and not funny to other people. Sometimes.

Ron had a few things working against him, too: he lived in Queens. Blech. He dressed like a mix of a 90-year-old cruise-goer and a skater punk teenager (think Charlie Sheen bowling shirts plus DC skate shoes and orange cargo shorts). And Ron had a major complex about having never finished college.

With that in mind... We went out a few times. It was fine. I actually ventured into Queens to hang out with him at the Bohemian Beer Garden, which I actually rather enjoyed. But, alas, I believe I enjoyed the atmosphere and the activity (read: beer-drinking) more than Ron.

After that beer garden afternoon-drinking date with Ron, he offered to drive me back to Manhattan (my mom warned about this: "Make him drop you off a few blocks away so he can't see where you live!"). So as we were driving toward the Queensboro back to Manhattan, we passed a neon-lighted, seedy-looking strip joint.

Ron: That's the most famous strip joint in Queens!

Me: Errr...

A taxi passed us at this point with one of those advertisements for a "Gentlemen's Club" featuring a seedy, Russian-looking woman... New Yorkers, you know what I'm talking about. Everyone else, here:



Me, noticing the taxi: I don't see how those ads attract anyone. Those girls are always gross-looking...

Ron half-turned toward me and shouted: Look, strippers are people, too! Everyone has to have a job, OK? Now, I've dated a few of them, and let me tell you, they are real people!

I was too stunned for words. I'm sorry, but a few? Not like, one stripper? But you've dated a few of them? I think I mumbled something like, "Uh OK..." and we rode the rest of the way (all 15-20 minutes) in silence...

Thankfully, I was going out of town the next weekend and had an excuse to not answer his calls. And that was the end of Ron.