The City of Dating, A Memoir

By Stevie Bowen

The City of Dating gives us a hilariously unique look into the truths of New York City dating through Stevie Bowen's honest and daringly real thank you letters to past dates… or lack thereof.

 

Facing the new millennial horrors of online dating, ghosting, and finance bros, Stevie shares her personal struggles of navigating relationships, hollow crushes, and one-night-stands in the excitingly daunting big city. In her search for self-love, she finds friendship at the core of her story. She makes an unwavering group of best friends who guide each other through the complicated life of dating. In this unapologetic personal memoir, she bares hard lessons of love, desires, and self-discovery.

 

A brilliant nod to strong, independent women everywhere!

 

You will constantly relate to the incredibly intimate and bittersweet memories of heartbreak and happiness. Stevie's thank you letters will inspire you to put yourself out there once again and embrace the soulmates you find along the way—your best friends!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stevie Bowen
• Release date: May 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736521212

Book preview

The City of Dating

The City of Dating

The City of Dating

A Memoir

Stevie Bowen

Copyright © 2021 by Stevie Bowen

All rights reserved.

www.thecityofdating.com

Published in the United States of America

Portions of this book are works of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously.

Portions of this book are works of nonfiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author's memories from the author’s perspective. Certain names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.

No part of this book can, without the author’s written permission, be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN 978-1-7365212-0-5

ISBN (e-book) 978-1-7365212-1-2

Cover design by Suegene Lee

Illustrations by Suegene Lee

Photograph by Sarah Dimbert

This book is dedicated to...

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New York City

&

the women of my past, present, and future

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I wouldn’t be me without you

Contents

Introduction

Dear Mocha

Dear Mike and Skip

Dear Mr. Almost

To My Dentist

March Madness

Dear Neighbor

Dear Mr. Bumble

Dear Skater Boy

Dear Jesse McCartney

Dear Mr. Twig

A Note About the Author

But we’re not—at least I was not—100 percent sober.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg

Introduction

Dating.

One of the most terrifying, annoying, and confusing words in the English language.

A verb. An action one makes when searching for their soulmate.

A test of trial and error.

A reason to get out of the house and off the wine-stained couch.

Most of us dread dating; some of us even hate the idea of it entirely.

We despise the amount of time we give to it, only to feel disappointed in the end.

Yet, we all continue to do it.

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Without dating, humans probably wouldn’t exist.

Our entire existence comes down to chance. The chance of two people meeting. The chance they can actually tolerate each other. The chance these two people sharing tacos for the first time are meant to be together.

One bad taco and humans are erased forever.

The pressure to find the perfect match grows higher while the possibilities grow smaller. With all the ghosting going around, it’s shocking we can produce a new generation at all.

Dating has become so mainstream there are even apps to help you find your soulmate. The resources on the subject are endless.

So, why are we all still afraid?

Everyone tells you how dating should be, what it should feel like. Doctors, bloggers, and bloggers who claim to be doctors, fill our minds and Instagram feeds, telling us how to act to enhance the possibility of finding our one true love—the life-altering connection we’ve all been craving and deserve.

Yet, no one ever talks about the spaces in between that dating. The person you become from all the lessons learned from the one-night stands or the fling you were trying out for a few weeks.

What do you call that thing you had with that one person who made you feel some type of way but then never spoke to again? Is it all still considered dating?

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From my experience, I’ve concluded that dating is a series of beautiful, unfortunate events. Meeting new people, wasting hours of your life pretending to be interested in a stranger’s cookie-cutter past life, ordering the least expensive, most boring meal on the menu, and laughing at poorly planned jokes all while trying not to drink your martini too quickly and finding something to do with your hands.

It is exhausting pretending to be normal.

But the fact of the matter is none of us are normal. We are all really weird, and so is everyone we date. We are all messed up, kicked around, dumped, then dumped again, then ghosted. Sometimes all by one person. Then we have to go out and experience it all again with someone else. Maybe even with the person sitting right across from you now.

Brutal.

All these dating experiences must account for something. I refuse to believe we go through all the pretty and the ugly just to end up with our so-called soulmates. There must be more to it. Dating is worth triple the boring Oxford definition man gives it.

To me, dating is finding yourself—the individual modeled by the horrible first dates, the broken hearts, the summer flings, and the ones that got away.

In one lifetime, dating takes different forms, changing with your age, your situation, and the people you surround yourself with. We can’t expect to go on all these dates and not change a little ourselves. Every new date is a new me—a new you.

From a young age, the innocent naivety of the word grows into something more awkward. If you’re not dating in elementary school, then you’re just not cool enough.

In our teen years, we hope the hot quarterback will woo us on a lawnmower, confessing his love for us as we stare out our window longingly. Just another cruel reality we all have to learn. A seventeen-year-old boy or girl will not climb the tree outside your window and save you from your overbearing parents and teenage angst. Hell, a twenty-seven-year-old will not climb your fire escape and save you from the perpetual loneliness of your twenties.

We have to create our own dating stories with the cards life deals us.

Life is just the stage for our ever-changing love life.

Dating is a winding yellow brick road, and the gold at the end of the rainbow is us.

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When I was younger, I never really understood what the word dating meant. It was always something adults did.

It wasn’t until Jessica Adams and Tyler Scott started dating in the fifth grade that I knew I was in for a long road of disappointment.

What do fifth graders even do when they are dating, anyway? Exchange notes across the hall, play together during recess, watch a movie in their parents’ living room?

I didn’t date in elementary school, so I’m only guessing.

I was always too busy worrying about my horse club with my best friends to be thinking about love. I had no time to catch those things called cooties. What kind of word is that, anyway? The only thing I was catching was chiggers down in the creek.

I realized my laissez-faire approach at a young age to this thing called dating led me down a path of perpetual shyness and cringy awkwardness.

Truthfully, I just couldn’t be bothered with it all.

I had no desire to jump-start my dating career until I met my very first boyfriend, Mason Stewart. We bonded over a game of Horse in gym class in sixth grade. Maybe it was because I had an activity for my hands, but it was the first time I didn’t feel shy around a cute boy.

His mother made me a candy basket for Valentine’s Day, which he gave to me in front of everyone in the gym. We even hugged in front of the entire class. Our teacher yelled at us after showing PDA. Mortified.

I was so embarrassed; I promised myself I’d swear off boys for good. Focus on my studies. That was until they got extra cute in middle school.

Mason and I lasted a whole three weeks. There was never really an official breakup. Just mutual ghosting, before ghosting was even a thing.

Our generation was destined for disappointing love lives from the start.

After Mason Stewart, I dedicated the next six years to observation rather than the preferred experience. I watched my friends go on dates as I remained on the sidelines.

I saw my best friend’s first kiss in the parent pickup lane after school. Held my girlfriend’s head as she cried over a boy who flirted with her frenemy in biology class. I listened to all the gossip on who was dating whom. Who broke up, then got back together again. Someone even lost their virginity in the janitor’s closet.

I watched quietly as One Tree Hill played out in front of my eyes.

My mum said I was a late bloomer, but I knew I was destined for something more.

High school went by without me ever having a proper date. I had third-wheeled on many of my best friends’ dates. I friend-zoned the boy who liked me before I could classify our two girls, two boys hangouts as group dates. My first kiss was with a boy whose experience was too advanced for me. Our relationship never went beyond the upstairs movie room and weekend house parties.

By the end of high school, I was eighteen and dateless.

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For the first time, I felt defeated. Everyone around me was making memories. They were going into college with a couple of adolescent