Dating ADD

I have a disease. Actually, I’ve had it for quite some time now, but just figured it out the other day. Don’t worry ladies, it’s nothing serious like The Clap or that one monkey-fucking disease from Africa. No, no. Rather it’s a fairly common and non-lethal mutation of the ADD disorder called “Dating ADD.” Evidently you’re at high risk to be infected with this disease if you’re single, living in New York City and drink the tap water from time to time (mmmm nothing like ingesting the nectar from the Hudson River Valley Sanitary District...tastes like chicken).

Wait....what’s that?

You have it too?

That’s crazy. Maybe we should go out sometime, have a few cocktails, some great conversation, a few laughs, get all sauced up and make a few bad decisions late one night, then never talk to each other again other than a few random 4 AM text messages that read something like, “waante 2 fuk?”

I mean seriously, isn’t that what happens in this city? Seems like no one even thinks about getting married around here until they are 35 years old. And honestly, why should they? Single people in this city have more options than Justin Timberlake at a national high school cheerleading competition. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve met a ton of awesome girls and I usually have great dates, but there comes a point where it’s like, “OK, she was cool and we had a great time, but it’s time to move on.”

Maybe it’s just the ADD speaking, but it’s not just me. I mean every now and then I’ll start to really like a girl and then it will just kind of die out. Either I don’t call her or she doesn’t call me...or we’re just too lazy to make time to call each other because you know why? There’s a million more girls and a million more guys all living on an island about a mile wide and eleven miles long.

I’m sure that I’ll find a cure one of these days for my Dating ADD, but until then I’ll keep the texting option on my cell phone on the “unlimited” plan.

NYCDG