JANA HOCKING: I spent a week in the ‘horniest city in the world’ – and my wild encounters prove just how boring Sydney men are
Last week I hopped on a big jet plane and headed to New York City. It was the start of a new year and I was after a big delicious adventure – something that would bring my spark back after a year that felt a little like groundhog day.
I love you Sydney men, but you haven’t exactly been doing it for me lately.
Little did I know that I would enter the most eager city on earth. Huzzah!
I made a promise to myself to leave my ego, my overthinking brain and any form of hesitation back in Sydney. When I landed, I was going to embrace my inner bravado and update up a storm. No ‘type’ was off limits. White collar, blue collar, in the city, in the town, I wanted to meet them all.
I also wanted to avoid the apps because like I said before they can be a waste of time. Plus, I wanted to see if I could really make my own ‘meet-cute’ moments happen.
Jana Hocking went to New York City for a week and called it the ‘horniest city on earth’
I had no time to waste, I had seven days in this glorious city and I wanted to make them count.
The first sign that this city was a horn dog of a town appeared when I went through customs after a long 21 hour journey from Sydney to New York. Safe to say, I wasn’t looking for a treat, but when I handed over my passport and told the semi-handsome security guy where I was staying, he boldly exclaimed ‘Oh, it’s right near me! Are you going to take me out for dinner?’.
Hello New York!
I was a bit grumpy after my flight and had to deal with a grumpy driver via text who threatened to drop me off at the airport so I said ‘No!’ and then ran for the exit.
Nevertheless, I vowed that the next time I was faced with a dating opportunity, I would be a little more open to the idea.
My next obstacle was the weather; it was the coldest New York week in recent history. Sure, I packed thermals, a big winter jacket, and a pair of jeans, but the rest of my wardrobe consisted of cute outfits that I thought would help catch the eye of a NYC man or two.
Nevertheless, the next day I dolled myself up for brunch and a party with some girlfriends and rocked a black mini skirt, stockings, black velvet knee high boots and a black turtleneck.
I saw a handsome French man at a bar and after a very fun night I chased him out of my hotel room and woke up to some very romantic texts. Lovely. Well that was until I found out he was married
The bar was packed because if there’s one thing New Yorkers do exceptionally well, it’s brunch! I was delighted to discover it was 50/50 men and women (a welcome break from the 90 per cent female ration of Sydney brunches) so I wondered.
I was delighted to discover the men there are HUGE fans of eye contact. There were flirtatious looks all over that bar, but by the time I worked up enough (rosé) courage to have a chat, it was time to head to a party across town.
Now here was the next obstacle. As we walked into the bar, I noticed that there were large TVs set up everywhere. It was the NFL playoffs and every guy at the bar was actively involved.
Seriously, I could have walked across the bar naked and not one man would have noticed. Fortunately, the game finally ended, and the men were energized with post-game endorphins. (Go to sports!).
My friends and I chatted with everyone, including one gentleman wearing a charming hat that said ‘Show me that butthole’.
Um did I mention this city is hot?
If there’s one thing New Yorkers do exceptionally well, it’s brunch! I was delighted to discover that it was 50/50 men and women (a welcome break from the 90 per cent female ration of Sydney brunches)
I struck up a conversation with a handsome bearded gentleman and found myself reliving the high school disco days as we passed around the corner like teenagers. Delicious.
Before long the jet lag really hit me like a brick wall in the face so I slipped and slid to a cab.
The next morning I woke up to some thirsty texts from the guy, but I wasn’t here to date one guy and one guy only. So, after a day of wondering around, I dressed myself up again to hit Pete Davidson’s bar with a great gay friend.
This time I didn’t make the mistake of dressing like a shady con artist. I found some articles saying that New York was all about ‘Mob Wife’ vibes in terms of fashion this winter, so I wore a sexy red knit dress, gold hoops, my same black velvet boots and an outrageous mobster cheetah dressed print coat.
When I entered Pete’s ‘Pebble Bar’ downtown, I was immediately hit with that BDE (big d**k energy) that he is known for. This bar was sexy! With large black leather booths, slick retro wallpaper and red velvet lounge chairs, it was one big aphrodisiac of a bar.
It was at this very bar that I discovered one reason why this is a hot town. Martinis. Very generous free-throw martinis. When my handsome friend, Andrew, and I knocked back the dirty gin concoctions, I was ready to pass out.
I was delighted to discover the men there are HUGE fans of eye contact. There were flirtatious looks all over that bar
Andrew left for an appointment and I decided to stay and chat with the locals. Within a few minutes I was propped up in the coat closet with the maid cooking up a storm. As he took coats and I handed them receipts, we talked about life, love and the dating scene in each other’s cities. It seems that the men of New York are just as dumbfounded when it comes to dating as us ladies.
I finally said my adieus and called it a night, but not before trading Instas for healthy flirting.
The next day I decided to treat myself to a shopping spree and a wonder around the Met, before stopping at a bar (which looked suspiciously like the Cheers bar) for a wine while I read my book.
Now, for the record let me say that I did not look cute. I had my big snow jacket, a wool beanie and snow drenched hair. It seemed like I was fighting a war with the weather and losing.
I wasn’t there to pick up, so what happened next was a lovely surprise. I was sitting at the bar and two men who could have been sitting anywhere in the empty bar came to sit next to me. I quickly ducked to the toilet to see if anything flared up my appearance and when I returned to the bar there was a hot shot of cider and rum waiting next to my book.
I looked surprised and one of the men said to me ‘We noticed your Australian accent when you ordered your wine and we thought you probably weren’t used to this cold so we thought it might warm you up’ . Smooth!
I discovered one reason why this is a horny town. Martinis. Very generous free-throw martinis. When my handsome friend, Andrew, and I knocked back the dirty gin concoctions, I was ready to go over
Even if I looked like a snow cow, the men of New York would still have a crack.
The next night I made an epic dating blunder, but in my defense, Honorable, it honestly wasn’t my fault.
I went out to lunch with the same girls, and we decided to check out a bar with a name that I discovered tended to cater to the ‘financial bros’ of New York.
It was here that I spotted a French man with a very nice beard and decided to embrace my inner New York goddess and approach him. Within minutes we were chatting up a storm and once again drinking free-throw martinis. My friend had a crush on his friend and so those were happy days.
Did he finally come back to my hotel? Yes, yes he did. After a very fun night I kicked him out and woke up to some very romantic French texts. Lovely.
Well that was until my friend called an hour later and revealed he was married. She found out from his friend that morning and rushed to tell me.
My friends and I chatted with everyone, including one gentleman wearing a charming hat that said “Show me that butthole”
Gaaaah. I was after adventure in New York, but not that kind of adventure.
Uncharacteristically, I chose not to confront him about it. I left in a few days and decided to simply block him and move on. Drama was not on my itinerary.
A few days later I get on the plane back to Sydney with a big smile on my face and a vow to bring that horny dating culture back to Sydney with me.
If there was one thing I learned from this trip, it was to just go for it. No need to swipe left and right. Simply make eye contact, strike up a conversation at the bar or wear something quirky to start a conversation.
The one thing New Yorkers don’t do is overthink things. It’s a numbers game and those numbers will sometimes be in your favor. Ladies, honestly, if you’re up for some good old-fashioned flirting in a city that can’t get enough of an Aussie accent, you should book that trip.
New York you are one hell of a city, and I just can’t get enough of you.
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