Everyone's Favorite People: Hipsters and "Artists"

Of the various types of guys I've dated over the last year, I must say (sarcastically) that hipsters and "artists" are among my favorites.  Why do I have artists in quotes, you ask?  Oh, you'll find out.

Last May I went out with a self proclaimed artist who I had met on the dating site I was on.  Again, I was new to this whole dating thing, so I didn't really understand the concept of being selective.  He seemed cute and nice enough, so I thought "eh, how bad can it be?"  It was pretty bad.  The "artist" had chosen a bar for us to drink at on a Sunday afternoon in a really grimey area of city.  I remember thinking, good thing there's still daylight out as I got off the subway and walked towards the bar.  This should've probably been my first clue. 

My date got to the bar a few minutes after I did and when he walked in the first thing I noticed was that he was really skinny and his pants were about ten times too big on him.  He sat down next to me and we began to chat.  I asked him where he had come from and he said that he lived in Queens.  I forget where exactly in Queens, but I do remember him stating that it was not a nice place and quite dangerous actually.  I thought to myself, at least I'll never have to venture out to him.  We chatted a little more and ordered wine.  After the first glass, I was already a little tipsy and that's when he began to tell me about his work as an "artist."  He told me that he was enrolled in an art school and that he was stressed because he had a deadline for a big project looming.  He looked very stressed - his shirt was all wrinkled and his hair was disheveled.  He kept rubbing his forehead and shaking his head.  I asked "what is this project that has you so worked up?"  He explained that he had to paint a giant glass of wine and a lemon.  Now, I'm no artist by any means, but I thought to myself "there must be more to it."  I was on glass number two of wine, so my questioning became more straightforward and less nice.  I asked him why the painting of the glass and lemon was so hard to complete (he claimed to have been working on this project for several months now).  He stated that it was difficult because he worked in a very small studio and he couldn't step back far away enough from the easel to view it properly. Simple solution I thought - why not go paint outside in the park or something...it sounded like something he would've enjoyed.

I then asked him about this art school he attended.  He told me that it was an art school located in Grand Central Station and that it was called Grand Central Art School, or something ridiculous along those lines.  At this, I laughed out loud.  He continued to explain that he was in this "school" for four years now and that you don't really get graded or a degree for that matter.  I asked him what he's been doing for four years then.  He replied that a man had been observing his work and providing constructive criticism throughout his educational years at this supposed Grand Central Art School.  I couldn't help but wonder if some homeless guy in Grand Central Station had been duping this dum-dum for the last four years and taking his money all while pretending to be an art teacher.  I thought my story seemed more credible than his.

By the end of our date, the bartenders were laughing at me and my situation and I guess felt bad enough for me that they had given me a third glass of wine on the house.  That's when I knew it was time to leave.  The bill came and my artist date said that he had trouble seeing it because he had left his glasses at home.  So, I told him what the total was and then a few seconds of silence passed.  Sensing that my aspiring artist was broke, I offered to split the bill, but he said no and that he got it. I began to put my jacket on when he said to me "actually, do you have $10?"  I said "no, I don't" and turned around and left.

More recently, I went out with what turned out to be a hipster from Brooklyn.  He was really cute and seemed nice, so I thought, "hey, why not?"  I told him to let me know when and where he wanted to go and he responded by asking me if I wanted to come to Brooklyn because he knew of a nice bar there that had a fireplace.  I wanted to exclaim, "wow, no one has ever taken me somewhere so nice before!" but, instead I suggested a wine bar in midtown that I enjoy.  Was he out of his mind thinking I was going to go all the way to Brooklyn to meet him for our first date?!

We got to the wine bar and had a really good time.  We drank a lot of wine, got some food, had great conversation and when the bill came he actually paid for it! When we left, he kissed me goodnight and I was quite pleased how things had turned out with the hipster.  As such, I decided to go out on a second date with him.

For our second date, he picked a bar on the lower east side because it was close to Brooklyn and, therefore, convenient for him.  We both worked in midtown, but of course I had to travel all the way downtown so that the princess could have a quicker trip home at the end of the night.  Nevermind that I would have a 45 minute commute back up to my apartment. 

We got to the bar and left soon after because it turned out a company was having its office party there that night.  We were the only two people at the bar that were not part of the company party and we stuck out pretty well.  We left and decided to go to a wine bar around the corner.  There we had some wine and talked some more.  Only this time, I wasn't liking what I was hearing.  He was going on about his love for camping (anyone who knows me knows that I do not camp, nor will I ever want to camp...I think the whole premise of it sounds miserable and awful), about his gross roommates and about how rich people are bad.  He apparently was having a good time though, because he suggested we get two more glasses of wine and food.  I wasn't hungry and didn't want to drink anymore - I just wanted to go home, but I went along with it anyway.  I wish I hadn't though, because when the bill came, he asked me to split it! I just looked at him and contemplated saying something like "no, I don't believe in that", but more than anything I wanted to get out of there, so I handed over my credit card and split the bill with him. 

When we left the bar, he asked me if I wanted to walk with him because the subway for me was along the way.  I told him that it was late and that I was just going to take a cab home.  He felt it necessary to inform that he doesn't take cabs because he feels too guilty doing that, but he understood if I felt that I had to take one.  I thanked him for his understanding and hopped into the first cab that came along. 

Since those dates I have made a conscious effort to steer clear of "artists" (broke) and hipsters (broke and judgmental).  I do not regret this decision.