So what happened to all those guys?
As the clock stuck midnight on New Year’s Eve, my reflections on 2001 were shallow and to the point – what had become of all the men I had dated in the past year?
Many had seemed so promising at the time, so where were they when I needed a New Year’s Eve snog?
Some dates I’m putting down to experience, such as the one with Mr. Uptight, the guy who told me I talked too loudly on the subway and begged me to go home and change before he took me to a bar on the Upper East Side (I refused).
I ended all communication with him the evening he offered to cook me dinner, then called when I was on my way over to his house to say he hadn’t bought the food yet, so could I kill a couple of hours before I arrived and grab something at McDonald’s on the way?
Nor did I return calls from the banker, introduced to me by a matchmaker, who told me over a martini that men shouldn’t let their wives breast-feed babies because their bosoms get “blown out,” then dragged me to the dance floor and tried to crotch-grind my thigh like a randy dog.
And I won’t be pining for the English lothario I went home with after a wedding, a guy I decided not to shag after realizing his entire apartment was set up to seduce women – slim-line tonic, a flick-of-the-switch fireplace, and lollipops placed by the bedside.
I later found out he’d told his friends I was lucky to have made it to his apartment at all, that he had to “take what he could get” at 3 a.m.
These disasters aside, some dates did go well – and even had me skipping home in excitement at the time.
So why, then, did romance never get off the ground?
Matt, my Southern boy, looked a dead-cert. He was the first to persuade me that not every guy in New York was charm-challenged.
We met for tapas and drank Coronas on his roof. He took me to Belmont Park races and won me $400. But somehow kissing never came up. Was he just too polite to make a move?
So we never managed to progress from “going on dates” to “dating,” and the whole thing fizzled out.
Then there was the Porsche-driving L.A. guy – another supplied by my matchmaker. We squeezed in a two-hour dinner late one summer night and talked like long-lost pen pals. I went to bed convinced I’d soon be swanning around his Bel-Air pool.
We e-mailed each other enthusiastically but were always too busy to meet. There are only so many times you can both write “we must hang out soon,” without ever fixing a date.
Another “we must hang out soon” case was John of EventQuest, the James Bond-esque party planner who took me horse riding at the urging of his PR team.
I attempted to run after him for some action in the woods, until I realized the date was all business. Still, we swapped e-mails about getting together for a return drink in the city. But we never got around to it.
Last, but not least, was the blue-eyed boy from Indiana I met through friends, who rather inconveniently lived in London. We spoke every night on the phone, he flew to see me at a moment’s notice, but in the end neither of us could hack a long distance relationship.
A month after we split, he got engaged to a girl in London. (Not the first time this has happened to me.)
So, as another New Year’s midnight slipped by, I realized there’s a whole lot to dating I’ve yet to learn.
I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not just about finding someone decent to go out with in the first place – no small task. It’s also about building on the flickers of possibility you spot on the first date.
Living in hectic New York, where everyone’s ridiculously busy and there’s always the promise of something better around the corner, I realize a few e-mails and vague plans to meet just aren’t enough to keep a spark going.
With all the will in the world, romance doesn’t grow unless you give it a boot up the backside.
For my New Year’s resolution, I had contemplated transforming myself into “Zen” Bridget by giving up drinking, all impromptu benders, and going to every last party just in case I miss something. Instead, I would take up yoga and spend nights reading historical biographies.
But forget that.
My New Year’s resolution is to go on even more dates than last year – and this time see them through.