She hopes they work out better for you. Our only complaint about the Jane? For the thirsty, a dance floor at the back can be hit-or-miss depending on the vibe, unavailable but on weekends the main bar area is reliably packed.
The East Village can be a fucking pickle jar in terms of the number of dudes there on the weekend, but Bar Niagara remains pretty un-bro-y. Hit the dancefloor on a Saturday night and shake it to some raunchy old punk and soul classics. Snag a captivating Capricorn, a sexy Scorpio, guide or a lovely Leo at this astrology-inspired drinkery.
But even when it was a regular part of my life, I had never really enjoyed doing it. We women are are told that any male attention is risky, but also that a lack of male attention makes you worthless. In fact, when I went to the bathroom, I came back to find that my seat had already been taken. No books or playing around on your cell phone. The number of people you're out with is also a factor.
Sometimes, you want to feel classy, but act trashy. Enter Black Rabbit, a generally spectacular drinking hole that happens to be a great pick-up spot for adults. Within seconds, Lebowski and I were outside, smoking cigarettes and discussing why we had both stayed in the city for Christmas. Strut your stuff, catch his eye, strip down to your swimsuit, top secret and take a sultry dip in the oft-Instagrammed jacuzzi to really heat up that coquetry.
It's hardly fair to start changing the rules just for me. We went back inside, where his two very friendly married friends told me that Lebowski had been a three-time winner on Jeopardy. Sultry lighting and a robust drink menu, however, take Beauty Bar to the next level, making it an alluring destination for those looking to get it on. In fact, it's largely discouraged.
Also on Stanger's list of no-nos? Bring some friends, for there is safety in numbers here. But for me, a bar still doesn't feel like a place where I can safely be alone with my thoughts. To show that you're a sexy sex lady who has all of her joints in working order? So I thought that rolling in here after the anxiety of Joshua Tree would be easy like Sunday morning.
Lighting up the dance floor is a surefire way to entice a suitor or three, especially in New York where not too long ago shaking and shimmying was taboo most everywhere. This perma-frown is not because I go through all of my days thinking of nothing but pain, mayhem, and Tim Burton. Union Pool Henry Hargreaves.
Maybe, but we have no reason to be. Setting out solo, the experts warned, could potentially give off the vibe that you're a scary man-eater, or there to drink away your troubles alone because your cat just died. And now that I was partnered, I had a hard time imagining what I'd get out of drinking alone. Beer wenches and bros, unite! Must they be wondering what's wrong with me?
The idea of bars being a minefield of temptation was messed up, but infinitely more thrilling than the idea of a bar as a minefield of rejection. Because Lydia went to bars by herself. Here are our favorites in the city, and note that no, it is not a coincidence that most of these are in Murray Hill, the East Village, or Williamsburg, now the Murray Hill of Brooklyn. This wild Bushwick spot opened in and quickly established itself as a reliable way for Brooklyn revelers to wear insane costumes and lose their inhibitions just about every weekend. About ten years ago, Union Pool was the place in the greater Brooklyn area to find no-strings-attached sex and some-strings-attached cocaine.
Our newsletter hand-delivers its best bits to your inbox. The sultry, boudoir-like vibes help rank it among your best bets for getting checked out, and you can check into a room upstairs if things get intimate. So, scary man-eating cat-mourner that I am, I set off into the night to see what happens when a lady rolls into a hookup bar alone. And so, when I was asked to go to some of New York City's top hookup bars by myself for the sake of this experiment, I took all of those complicated and, frankly, embarrassing feelings along with me. But somehow, going to bars alone to relax has never made it into my regular rotation.
This is supposed to be the life of a woman alone at a bar. The grassy, spacious outdoor area of this bumping Williamsburg hangout is an apt setting for a cold Bud and a house burger, finished with pickled onions, American cheese and special sauce. You find yourself willing surroundings to change.
Its magic, like its namesake, is in the way it heightens awareness. Share on Facebook Tweet this article Pin it Email. Are New Yorkers post-horny?
Across the street from Phebe's is this stylish, less debacherous boite. Germain, ginger beer, swedish fish, and lime for Pisces season. She pictured Lydia trading risk for approval on a grand scale, hooking up with every dude she met, receiving confirmation that she wasn't one of the ugly ones.
Like, when you have to pee? See if anyone talks to you. There are velvety booths, but also a homemade arcade game called Yo Fight My Mans and erratic art, including red sneakers dangling from the ceiling.
While I had met funny bartenders and chill bartenders in the past, I had never before encountered so many male bartenders who treated me tenderly, like a puppy with its leg in a cast. Metallic, domed hair dryers and original salon-style chairs lined up against a wall make for a hyper-specific retro aesthetic. Hot dudes aside, the Levee's got Big Buck Hunter, a dirty unisex bathroom hello and the aforementioned cheese balls, tall guy dating so there's plenty to enjoy even if you're not getting laid. Apathy and disconnectedness run rampant in this metropolis.
And yet, in my own life, going to a bar alone feels unseemly. Start your night with Puerto Rican lasagna and juicy white sangria. Surely, this wouldn't be the site of yet another lonely humiliation, right? It sometimes feels like the subtle art of the random bar hook-up has fallen by the wayside in the Age of Tinder, which is pretty much just a bar on the Internet without the fun and the booze.