While I've met some very nice men lately who later became concert buddies, boyfriends, friends, etc, I'm am amazed at the level of crazy men that are living in NYC (and that find themselves attracted to me.) Do I, perhaps, exude a balanced drama-free persona that they feel would provide a nice balance to their Mania? Here are some examples of some less than balanced personalities I've dated in the past year (less than 3 dates each, thankfully).

1. I'll call him Matt The Medic. Matt was a very attractive college-educated paramedic that I had a great first date with. On the second date, I realized I should've started charging him by the hour. (Therapist hourly rates, NOT what you're probably thinking.) I guess all the walls were down and he felt very comfortable divulging all of his insecurities over a couple of beers. He proceeded to tell me about how nothing ever goes his way. Being the happy positive person that I generally am, I tried to convince him that life wasn't that bad. He had a good job, was healthy, had friends, lived in the greatest city in the world, etc. I actually can't really remember what horrible things he was talking about, but I remember that it really wasn't that bad. I told him he needed to gain a little perspective (I think I actually suggested for him to volunteer for a week in a third-world country or something.) He was basically debating going to Med School (feeling unfulfilled as a paramedic), but was scared of failure. (Aren't we all?) But seriously, this is WAY too much to throw out there on a second date. This man was having some sort of mental breakdown right there at the Irish Pub! By the end of that date, I had convinced him to go to therapy and convinced myself to delete him from my phone. The next day, I received a rambling text message apologizing for the evening and explaining that he thinks he has depression and was going to get therapy and stop dating until he got his mental state sorted out. (He did thank me for listening to him.)

2. I'll call him 'Harley-guy', since all of my girlfriends already called him this in private. I'm actually not really sure I was dating this 3rd crazy, but we were hanging out as friends getting to know each other. I met him through a friend of a friend of a friend, on a Sunday afternoon at an outdoor Beergarden. I discovered that we attended the same college in Florida and actually lived in neighboring buildings of an apartment complex in Florida at the same time. We exchanged numbers that day and became facebook friends. He has a Harley, so he invited me to ride up to City Island for lunch one day. I had a great time and really liked his sense of adventure. The second time we saw each other, we went to listen to the Philharmonic in Central Park with some of my friends. Again, no crazy tendencies displayed. The following week, he texted me to see what my plans were that Friday night. I told him I was meeting a friend who was visiting from out of town. Since I was meeting my friends at a bar he loves, I invited Harley-guy along. As the evening wore on, my first set of friends left and we met up with two more people including my male best friend who happens to be British. My British friend made some crack about how he could beat any American at Pool. We change venues and the four of us went to a private room at a Karoake Bar in K-Town (at Harley-guy's urging.) We were having a great time belting out such Karoake classics as 'Roxanne', 'Bye Bye Bye' and 'Don't Stop Believin'. We decided at 5am that it's time for the night to end, so we asked for the check. My British friend again jokingly comments, "Make sure you tip, since I hear you Americans are bad-tippers." This comment set Harley-guy off. Before I knew it, he was in my best friend's face, threatening him and telling him that he's tired of his remarks (referring back to the pool table comment he made hours before). I thought he was kidding, but Harley-douche was seriously trying to get into an altercation with my best friend. I had to physically get between them and push Harley-douche out the door, begging him to leave. He refused and I had to restrain him (thank god he was my height), as my friends left the Karaoke Bar and got into a cab. He clearly still did not understand why I was so angry with him, since he then invited me to go to the 24 hour Korean baths across the street. I jumped into a cab and headed home. Everytime I pass a Harley-Davidson, I still shudder.

So, please, if you're constantly feeling sorry for yourself, about to go through a quarter-life crisis, or have a tendency to get into fights at Karoake Bars (or any bars for that matter), DO NOT contact me. Thanks.