L-U-V Hangover

Flash back five months. It was the last day of February, a windy, frigid day, when we heard the dreaded words from our then-boyfriend: "We have to talk." All had seemed relatively normal up until that point -- especially when we left his house that morning -- doubly so, because we were supposed to go to Lawrence that evening for a delayed Valentine's Day gift of a night at the Eldridge. However, with those four words we knew that for some reason, it was suddenly, inexplicably over. He came to our house after work, said he'd found out that day that he might, just might, have a job in another country and, just as dramatically, left our life.

The day after, we forced ourselves to go to our friend's sex-toy party (think Tupperware, only with better plastic and no disgusting burp noises). We desperately needed to get out of the house for some air. However, the dullness we felt made it hard for us to be social. We couldn't even laugh at the bemulleted naked guys on the playing cards, which was very much unlike us.

In the pain-dazed days that followed, we replayed scenes, good and bad, from the entire relationship on a continuous loop in our mind. Of course, we also thought of the things we should have said to him instead of sitting there numbly. We realized that it really is All For The Best, but that didn't ease the pain of being dumped. We went out with our friends, most of whom are couples, and even though they were wonderful, we couldn't help but feel like an interloper at best or a Fifth Wheel contestant (albeit a platonic one) at worst.

We reread Bridget Jones-- both books -- and took comfort in that. We listened to a lot of Rex Hobart and the Misery Boys, and it spoke to us. Someday you'll be the one who's left when someone sets you free/You will learn love's lessons, you will think of me.

We thought it would be impossible to meet anyone again.

And, just like that, we found ourselves back in the hell that is dating. As that bleak winter day melted away, it gave way to an antic-filled spring and summer, when we enjoyed various flirtations and dalliances. Consequently, even though we weren't actively seeking another relationship and basically just wanted to Date Around and Have Fun, we still became embroiled in the politics, neurotic behavior and overanalyzing of situations that constitute the modern dating scene as we know it.

That's why it came as no surprise when a list ranking cities for singles posted last month on Forbes magazine's Web site (www.forbes.com) tagged Kansas City a bottom-dwelling 36 out of 40. We had heard from our friends in other cities that it was hard for them as well -- even for those who lived in places that ranked high on the list. So we wondered: Is KC, a place that prides itself on its Midwestern friendliness, really such a horrendous place to be single?

We were intrigued by the lack of l-u-v apparently afflicting this place. And because we cover the bar scene for a living, we figured that teeming petri dish would be a natural starting point for study. Plus, we occasionally get "Dear Night Ranger" e-mails asking, "Where's a good place to meet men/women/interesting people/party with the elite?" (Yes, that was an actual query.) At the very least, we could answer a few of these questions in the course of our research.

Of course, there were some caveats. We were well aware of the fact that it's easy to meet people in bars if you're just looking to hook up, especially with the social lube of alcohol. But we were choosing to focus instead on why it's hard to meet someone with whom you actually click and can wake up next to without having to mumble some lame fakescuse as a reason to flee. So, as we delved into the world of singlehood in KC, we kept in mind a passage from Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason: "I promise never to suggest that Singletondom is a mistake, or that because someone is a Singleton there is anything wrong with them. For, as we all know, Singletondom is a normal state in the modern world, all of us are single at different times in our lives, and the state is every bit as worthy as Holy Wedlock."

Plus, we were being paid to go out and drink and talk to cute guys. Which is really the best job to have after a breakup.

First, we were curious about how Forbes.com came up with its list. Its staff looked at several categories in the forty largest American metropolitan centers: the number of singles in the area (people older than age fifteen who have never been married), nightlife (the number of restaurants, bars and nightclubs), culture (museums, pro sports teams, live theaters and university population), how much it costs to live alone, job growth, coolness (the size of the gay community and the number of creative workers like artists and scientists), and the wily and elusive "buzz factor." Kansas City ranked low on all fronts except for the cost of living category, in which we placed eighth.