The Cheapest Dates in New York City
Let me begin by clarifying: when I say “cheap dates”, I do not mean people. Any guy who clicked on this in hope of discovering a list of people who wear panties with easy access labels, stop reading. Go hold open some doors or reach stuff off top shelves and put in some legwork.
With that qualification, I can tell you that in the last month, I have been on some pretty awesome(ly) cheap dates. Here’s a few of the best of them:
The Met:
I know you’re supposed to give money to museums and be a Patron of the Arts and whatnot, but I’m broke. The Met is not. And entry is officially donation based. My date marched up to the ticket counter and said “two cents for two, please.” Did I judge him for not stumping up more? Absolutely not. I thought he was awesome.
The High Line:
Yeah, it’s a cliche. But the people-watching on the High Line is great. We were treated to a ballet performance by a toddler in traditional Chinese dress, a talk on movie stars by a tour guide who was the youngest in his party at 80 years old, and the spectacle of three people deconstructing a lobster with their fingers. We also got rained on. But it was free!
Kellogg’s Diner, Williamsburg:
This goes for any shitty diner, really. Diners are great for dates. They’re low key, painfully brightly lit so you’re at no risk of waking up to a different face than you thought you went to bed with, and, if the date’s crap, at least you get some cheap, greasy food out of it. We met for a two hour breakfast at Kellogg’s, split the check and neither of us broke ten dollars. Woohoo for free coffee refills!
Brooklyn Botanical Gardens:
Okay, so this wasn’t technically a date. The guy in question and I were leaving each other mysterious clues all over the city without ever having actually met, and one of mine led him here. We very nearly had our first real face-to-face encounter, but I hid in a bush just in time. So all I can say is that Brooklyn Botanical Gardens is full of beautiful bushes to hide in. (Does that sound like a euphemism? I really didn’t intend it to.)
And the prize for the most expensive date goes to…
Experimental Cocktail Club:
The guy was an epically sexist douche. So I paid the whole bar tab (it was three figures…) and walked out on him, just to knock him down a peg or two. Broke as I am, some things, like my pride, are worth breaking the bank for.
images: MTA, beautyofNYC, forgottenNY, Allen Rokach, Party Earth
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