This is true across America, almost without exception (single women outnumber men in a half-dozen cities). Brownstone Brooklyn, the closest my borough has to a Manhattan, is ⑤, sporting about 20% more women than men.Extra single men was a clear trend everywhere, so there was no reason to look closer, right? As far as I can tell, New York City as a whole only has more single men than single women because of immigrant communities.
If they think, ‘This girl’s not giving me what I want, or pushing things too quickly,’ they find someone else.
It’s an unlevel playing field.” Of course, love is inherently not a level playing field—its terrain is rocky, uncharted, completely unfair.
My singles map gets updated every single year, and every time it’s the exact same result: you complaining ladies must be crazy. While there might be more single men in NYC than single women, they aren’t who you think.
Take a look at this map about what life is really like as a single person in NYC – it’s singles organized by age and zip code. Note #2: This data is from the Census Bureau’s American Community Survey, Table B12002. Men have a couple holdouts, with the blue chunk on the left and the one at the bottom.
The ones that include NYC also claim some New Jersey, maybe a little Pennsylvania, Long Island, etc. Let’s hop across the East River for a moment – in the 20-34 range up above, Williamsburg has a few more men and Greenpoint has a few more ladies, but if we adjust down to 20-29 the picture changes a wee bit. Hip, single, straight, female twentysomethings: you are doomed. Going back to the Chinatown-makes-Lower-Manhattan-blue observation, let’s examine the Outer Boroughs to see if we can find a trend…
In each of these MSAs, there are absolutely more young, single men than young, single women. is Jackson Heights, where you have a large number of South Asian immigrants (and NYC’s oldest gay community). Queens Chinatown), ③ is Brooklyn Chinatown and ④, if you’ll allow me a large degree of geographic wiggle room, is Brighton Beach, with a large number of immigrants from Russia (and others).
My years of New York City dating—if you’re counting, there have been 12—have involved a lot of guys, short- and long- and mid-term. My shortest—minus the one-off hookups that we all know aren’t “dates” at all—was somewhere in the range of two weeks.
There have been certifiable crazies, like the Eastern European fellow who broke my bedroom window in a fit of rage and told me not to complain that he’d broken my “fucking window.” There was the Jersey boy who worked in women’s handbags; fond memories involve him drunk-puking at the Hilton, then giggling hysterically, running, and “hiding” our soiled comforter in front of someone else’s door down the hall. There was the dashing Argentinean only in town for a week; the Ronkonkoma deli worker barely old enough to drink; the beleaguered i-banker who came over regularly just to pass out on my couch.
For the past half-dozen years I’ve been fighting an easily-mapped battle about the shortage of eligible bachelors in New York City.