Ladies, are you tired of being a cell on a Manhattanite's dating spreadsheet? Sick of having your heart stepped on by those tiny little European-style tennis shoes in every borough of the city? The Post wants you to know that there's a slice of Mayberry just outside of town, in a little hamlet called Greenwich. "In Connecticut, they’re just very normal, very sweet, very unassuming," 35-year-old Robyn Kassner says of one of the richest locales in America. "They don't have game. They're steak-and-potatoes American. They don't care about fashion, they're not metrosexual." In fact, they don't even know that people stopped saying "metrosexual" seven years ago!
Yes, apparently the grass is greener and Polo'd across state lines. "Everybody's doing it," Anna Rothschild, "an Upper East Side divorcee in her 40s who takes a car service to Greenwich several times a month" says. On a recent night, she shacked up with Tim Mehnert, "an actor and model." Good luck finding these types of actor/models in New York City!
Megan Glynn, who left her neighborhood that has more watering holes than anywhere else in the United States for a "hot suburban club" in Greenwich, notes that “Guys in New York City are constantly emasculated when they have to buy a bottle to get into a club or they take a girl back to their apartment that they share with five other guys." Indeed, those Greenwich boys are just comfortable in their own
skin Porsches—they're so down-to-earth (literally: those Porsche chassises are significantly lower than most).