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There were drunks and drug addicts and maybe once a teetotaler. There was a clammer from Cape Cod—a real, live clammer, with his very own waders. You’ve probably met more than a few aesthetically, shall we say, “uneven” couples, in which the man is short, pudgy, bald—or distractingly hirsute—with one of those pudding faces only a mother (or gold-digger) could love. And you’ve probably heard, and maybe retold, the modern-day relationship folk tale of that friend of a friend who, after “unsuccessfully” dating in New York for years, met her amazing husband while living or vacationing in Austin, or Boston, or Paris, or Rio, and then brought him back—or moved there herself. It enforces the belief that there is such a thing as a “plight” of the single lady, and that women can’t be blamed for our lack of success in the New York City relationship game. According to statistics collected by Richard Florida, author of The Great Reset and director of the Martin Prosperity Institute at the University of Toronto, single women currently outnumber single men in New York by 149,219. The good news: This number has actually decreased from 2008’s woman-surplus of 210,000, a gap that caused Lysandra Ohrstrom, writing for the Observer, to unleash the ominous decree that “savvy, well-educated women hoping to find a mate and settle down are out of luck.” Meanwhile, our fine city was recently ranked the top spot for single men to find a willing lady to smooch, and whatever else, on New Year’s Eve, according to more numbers from Mr. We were named number one of 2010’s top 29 cities for dudes to live in: a/k/a “paradise for men,” according to gratuitous macho website Ask
You can ride the Ferris wheel on The Wharf, go mini-golfing on Adventure Island, take a glass-blowing class at the arts center, or, you know, lie on the beach.