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Dating in New Jersey can be a drag, especially if you’re sifting through short-tempered meatheads and guys who still live with their mothers. To escape a dreaded single life, many of us Jerseyians dip into the New York City dating pool, only to encounter even rockier waters. Now that you’ve swiped right on a stunning bachelor with a swinging loft in the West Village, it’s time to learn the hard truth: Dating New Yorkers is the worst if you live in Jersey. Here's why.
1. You'll never be visited in the 'burbs. New Yorkers are always going to lament how "hard: it is to get out of the city. Car owners in New York are about as rare as unicorns, making interstate transportation tricky. Plus, figuring out NJ Transit requires a magic decoder ring. If you live in Jersey and are dating a New Yorker, you are going to be making a lot of trips across the Hudson.
2. Their overachiever friends are just obnoxious. Don’t run multiple startups? Didn’t just close a multi-million dollar real estate deal? Attended a small liberal arts college outside of the city instead of an Ivy? If that's the case, New Yorkers basically make you feel like you’ve done nothing with your life.
3. They assume you don’t live in New York because you can’t afford it. Just like Brooklynites, some people live outside of Manhattan because they actually want to. Some of us like more living space, extra greenery, and reduced smog inhalation. I know crazy, right?
4. The fact that you just spent $30 in pre-date transportation doesn't mean much to them. No, I don’t mind splitting the check, but I’ve already invested substantial funds in tolls and gas (not to mention the trip home), so I honestly don’t know if I can afford to like you anymore.
5. There’s a lot of competition. You can’t walk down the streets of SoHo without passing at least a dozen fit, gorgeous Vogue-worthy men and women. The beauty bar just isn’t set as high in Jersey.
6. You’ll always be that girl or guy from Jersey. Alas, being from New Jersey just doesn’t have the element of glamor that being a New Yorker has. I feel ya, Lorde—we’ll never be Royals.