Two Cities, Zero Boyfriends: A Tale of Bicoastal Dating

by Geo Wood

Roses are red

Violets are blue

The men on this coast are adorned in Carhartt and hand roll their cigarettes. 

They do on that coast too. 

​My name is Geo Wood. I'm twenty two years old, single as of June and living in New York City as of August. I’m from Los Angeles and spent my first post-graduate-single-period there this past summer. I like to date. Maybe even love it. But to be honest, I don’t know how the fuck to meet people in real life. This has made me a connoisseur of the dating app world. In fact, out of my last two serious relationships, I met one on Tinder and the other on Hinge. After the June breakup that led to my newfound singleness, one of the main things on my mind was, “Get me on a damn dating app.” It is my version of Candy Crush. And get on a dating app I did.

Later that summer, I was talking to a high school friend from Los Angeles who went to SUNY Purchase and is dating a New York guy. She told me that she thinks there is a difference between dating in New York and dating in Los Angeles. For one, she told me in New York people are going to want to grab a drink. I had newfound curiosity and hope; not for a drink (a bar date is lowkey my nightmare) but for a new era, new people to date, and maybe a better success rate of liking the men I meet up with. And so I packed my bags, put my cat in her carrier, and set off determined to answer the age-old question: what is the difference between online dating in Los Angeles and New York? 

​The kind of dates I prefer don’t depend on the coast — I’m not particularly into being wined and dined, and I don’t mind throwing chivalry out the window. I'll take a joint over a drink and a couch over a restaurant booth. I like casual dating (dating isn’t the only thing I prefer casual). My analysis will not be one of moonlit walks and stolen glances but rather of studio apartments and awkward moments of trying to get someone to leave. That is where I live. That is where my dating life resides. 

​I’ll tell you another thing that doesn't depend on a coast or city: the “we should hang soon” text. I respond “for sure” but I don’t know if he means it or if I really do. There's a flakiness to online dating, one I willingly and happily participate in. Perhaps it's a lack of accountability or the veil of online anonymity. People say Los Angeles is slow and relaxed and New York is fast-paced and intense. Would that thought process not lead to the conclusion that it would be easier to date in New York? That those “we should hang soon” texts will be launched into almost immediate plans? And honestly I do find it easier to date in New York. But perhaps not because of that. 

For one, I don’t live with my parents here, which for obvious reasons makes my dating life easier. Two, I find it easier to find people closer to me here — Los Angeles is 502.7 square miles while Manhattan is 22.7 square miles. In Los Angeles it always felt like someone was far away. To quote Cher’s dad in Clueless, “Everywhere in LA takes twenty minutes.” Although this may not be true anymore, everywhere takes AT LEAST twenty minutes. Now, I live in the East Village, and I go on dates with guys five and ten minute walks from me (yes they go to NYU). 

But is that really the answer? New York dating is different because there are more people in a tighter space? That I live closer to NYU than USC? I don’t think so.

Here is my answer: There is no difference.

But that’s not all. These cities, for all people argue about which is better, reflect each other — and so do the men in them. Of course, the cities aren’t the same —- but culture permeates geological boundaries. The men in my neighborhood of Silverlake rock selvedge denim, Solomon sneakers, and mustaches, but they also do those things in Williamsburg. I promise you that my ex-situationship from Silverlake and my new one from Brooklyn would be best friends. They could wear women's flats together (hot), talk about Magic the Gathering (ironically) and follow each other on Letterboxd. The men that litter the streets of the Financial District remind me of those in Beverly Hills (neither is my vibe, sorry). 

And weird shit happens in both places too. In Los Angeles, I had a guy in bed with his arm around me tell me he got back together with his girlfriend. And I had a guy in New York ghost me and only text me when I liked his roommate (who we smoked with) on hinge. No matter where I am, perhaps as long as there’s a Silverlake or Williamsburg, the men I get with will remain the same.

I guess, as my mom always tells me: wherever you go, there's always a scrawny man in too big jeans ready to lead you on.