Goin' on a Maaaan-hunt

About four years ago, "Starting Over" host Iyanla Vanzant had her own Oprah-esque show, complete with special guests, filtered lighting, and buttery-soft-looking furniture. Except the whole thing was painfully low-budget. For one show, the Iyanla producers decked out the whole set in a jungle motif, fake leafy trees and all. At the beginning of the show, Iyanla held comically large binoculars up to her eyes, pretended to stalk some sort of prey, and announced to the audience, "We're goin' on a MAAAAAAAN-HUNT!" I don't think I had ever seen anything more awkward in my life.

That's how I felt tonight, when my single roommate and I were talking about men and where we could find her a good one. "We need to find a happy medium," I said, "between the pretentious hipster bars of the Lower East Side, the superficial Meatpacking scene, and the douchebags over in Murray Hill." I paused. "Where do all the smart dudes go?"

And with that phrase, I realized just how out of touch I sound and just how long it's been since I've been single. Three years ago, if I were looking for a man, I'd prance my hiney over to Naked Lunch and be done with it. Recipe for hookup: Take a pack of recent college grads, mix with alcohol, add a dash of good music for dancing, and put it all in a bar the size of a matchbox. Sigh. It was so easy back then.

But finding quality guys for more than a makeout session? Not so easy. So tell me: Beyond a standard nondescript Irish pub, where do all the smart, nice guys go?