Do you remember that scene from Interstellar, when Anne Hathaway had landed at a planet that was livable, but she's all alone?
I feel like that sometimes. Except that this livable planet I'm in is actually inhabited by other Homo sapiens. Overpopulated even.
I've been in this city for five months now. It also means that I've gone five months without dating. It's beginning to feel like a long-running comedy gag, with me occasionally joking to friends that if I make it to a year, I'd check into a nearby convent. Might as well be there since the possibility of finding dates there are nun. #pun #ohsoclever #lame
A friend once told me that dating is a numbers game. The higher your frequency of dating, the higher your chances of meeting someone who's right for you. The thing is, I can't even get a first date in this city!
I'll be honest; I am somewhat picky, but only sensibly so. I look forward to meeting intelligent, funny, and kind guys who can speak my first language fluently. When I told a local friend here about this, she told me, "You can't find any local guy here who can tick all those boxes". No wonder those who match highly with me on a dating website are all foreigners from Farawayville, whom I may also never meet. Yay!
In moments of weakness (especially on weekends when the entire city goes on dates except for me), I sometimes question my judgement in moving to the city of no available decent men. The other day, I jokingly told my colleague that the women in our office (where 90% of the staff are single females) are like Sumatran rhinos: seemingly no chance in hell to meet available men organically.
Moving here hasn't been easy; though I have the best job in the world, outside of work I haven't found much to keep my plate full and interesting. I guess I'm missing the comforts of my old world. Or perhaps I haven't given this city a fair chance to show me what it has in store for me.
Maybe I should just date the city, like Carrie Bradshaw.
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