Check the Sports Bars

The result of writing a blog capturing your dating wisdom, adventures, and rants is that everyone and your mother thinks of you when they read an article wondering Where Have All The Good Men Gone?

Rachel, it's not just you. It's a problem for everyone.

Well this weekend was proof that it is in fact a problem.

The BFF and I went out on Friday night with the goal to have fun, and perhaps, find me a new Person of Interest.

"Where should we go?"
"I don't know somewhere that isn't lame. And that doesn't suck."
"Where do all the hot 30-year-olds hang out?"
"Well if we knew the answer to that, then maybe I wouldn't be single."
"I want to go somewhere fun. Let's try somewhere new."
 "What about that place I emailed you about""
"No, the only people who will be there are loser girls who read UrbanDaddy emails."

A quick "Let's make the best of this dirty hair because we're too lazy to shower" makeover later, The BFF agreed to go to The Mulberry Project, a pop-up-esque bar in Little Italy. Damn The BFF's spot-on intuition is all I have to say. We walked down the stairs into the dimly lit haunt to be faced with my ultimate Friday night nightmare: IT WAS ALL WOMEN. MOST YOUNGER THAN US.

Do you know that scene in Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls when Jim Carrey is at that estate and goes into the room with all the mounted animals? And his eyes dart around surveying the room? "Why this is a lovely room of death you have here." No, just me?

Okay anyway, that was sort of our reaction. It was like a terrible episode of Sex and the City. Literally - three guys in the entire place, all taken and/or gay.

This is when you wish scientists had gotten around to inventing a teleporter. We decided to stay for a cocktail since that's what its known for but as soon as we were done, we jumped ship.

Since Brinkley's was only a few blocks away, we decided we could go in there to warm up and plan our next phase of our Damnit We're Having Fun Tonight plan.

Only instead we were bombarded with gaggle of Little J wannabees (aren't you so glad they kicked Taylor Momsen off that show?) outside of the bar. Seriously why does the universe hate us?! Seriously, where are the men?

As luck would have it, after all of our "trendy" spots failed us, we found them. At a sports bar - Firefly - on Spring. Hmm, a sports bar. What a novel idea. Nothing but guys. Cute Stanford boys to be exact.

And the night was salvaged. Maybe there is hope after all.