Market Fluctuations

I know that I've said in the past that I'm back on the market and that I wouldn't talk about my dating life here, but I'm renegging on both those statements as of today. Frankly, I find the whole dating process nearly unbearable. Given the choice between a first, blind date and a visit to the dentist, I'd choose the dentist. A first, blind date and a job interview? The job interview. A first, blind date and a visit to the gyno? Um, debatable. My point is that I HATE dating; abhor it. The artifice, the games, the awkwardness, the hurt feelings, the rules. The truth is that I am a very, very bad dater. If it were a class I would get an "F" or maybe even an "incomplete." And, in general, I have a very low tolerance for bullshit. I've discovered, over the past several years, that being single/alone is much easier than putting yourself "out there." I don't often let down my walls because when I do, someone brings the pain. Also, I don't fall very easily for guys. In fact I think I've really only fallen hard for one guy over the past few years. And I'm still trying to recover from this painful precipice. With this guy, my defenses lay dormant; the fighter in me was not en guarde. And, as a result, my heart was torn out, shredded into a million little pieces, and then slam-danced upon. I don't relish ever feeling this way again. These are the lessons I've learned from The Asshole, who was arrogant/stupid enough to give me permission to write about him. (Are verbal aggreements binding in the state of New York? Anyone? Bueller?)
Lesson 1: It is NOT better to have loved and lost; If you've never loved, you don't know what you're missing.
Lesson 2: If something seems too good to be true, it is.
Lesson 3: Never let your guard down.
Lesson 4: It all goes back to your family; if your significant other has MAJOR family issues, above and beyond the normal, Jewish eccentricities, he's probably a whack job.
And on a marginally related topic, a question:
Has anyone noticed that art and wine are to New York businessmen—especially finance guys and traders—what clothes, jewelry and accessories are to New York women?
If I hear one more guy go on about the prices of his art and wine collections, I think I'm going to scream.
Do you hear us talking about the prices of our jewelry, handbags and shoes? What? Oh, that would be gauche? OK. The next time a guy pontificates on the value of his art or wine, I'll be ready.
"Does it taste good and is it aesthetically pleasing?" I will ask.
Oh, you don't know because these things are merely status symbols to you and have no inherent value of beauty or flavor? Then please, just stop talking. We are not impressed.