"You had sex last night..." "Sex? I wish I could tell you, that's unclear to me."

There is no true love, there is no well-articulated man waiting to woo you, there is no old school romance, there is no romance, there is a good chance you'll sleep with him on the first date, there will be nothing spectacular about it—you won't even remember, there are no butterflies in stomachs, no morning after brunches, no walks in the park, no staying up all night listening to records and forgetting to sleep, there is no feeling of connection, there is no chance of escape, you are concerned (but powerless), you are empty and frantic, like a cat, tied to a stick, that's driven into frozen winter shit.

Meet the Dating Class of New York City, and get right with being alone: