Dating stories from RI as a survey places one city among the worst for singles in US

I have bad news for single people in Warwick.

It’s supposedly one of the worst places for dating in America.

Out of 182 American cities surveyed by WalletHub, Warwick ranked in the bottom eight.

It’s below Grand Prairie, Texas – wherever that is – as well as Yonkers, New York, and Jackson, Mississippi.

Providence isn’t so great, either. It ranks 109^th.

WalletHub based this on percentage of singles, the cost of a meal for two, online dating “opportunities” and a few other metrics.

It got me thinking about dating in Rhode Island in general.

Not long ago, I did a story about Mary Hardy, 66, an X-ray and ER assistant from Smithfield who told me she’d been in the dating wars here for years.

I asked how it was going.

“Oh gosh,” she said, “frustrating, time-consuming. Basically, a full-time job if you really want to find somebody. But usually a big waste of time.”

She’d been on tons of apps – Bumble, Zoosk, Silver Seniors.

“I’m pretty much breaking my wrist swiping left,” she said.

At her age, the “supply” in Rhode Island isn’t perfect.

“Now, I’m not all that and a bag of chips,” Mary said, “but I know what lane I’m in. I’m not in the high-speed lane. But some of these dudes are in the breakdown lane.”

I have experience in this area, having dated in Rhode Island for years before I got married in 1988, and years after I got divorced in 2010.

There was more pressure the first go-around, since I was approaching my mid-30s while still never married. My Jewish mother would start phone calls with the same question.

“Anything new to report?”

Since that was before dating apps, there were probably more office romances – always a dicey gambit in a fishbowl.

Then again, all of Rhode Island sometimes feels the same. I was once on Thayer Street with a woman and walked right by someone else I’d been taking out. This led to a call later from the someone else, asking how I could be such a cad. I pointed out that we’d never talked about being exclusive, but it turns out there’s often an assumption that if you’ve dated 3.2 times, or even 2.3 times, you’re an item.

My brother “The Douglas” was much better at dating than I, being quite the schemer. For example, he always sent flowers to a woman at her place of work. That way, he said, the other women in the office will rush over and ask, “Who’s the great guy?”

A few times, he even sent flowers to a woman’s mother for having such an amazing daughter. That’s playing dirty, but it worked.

Once, he almost got into trouble when he brought a date home and suddenly, someone called on his answering machine. He had no doubt it was one of the other women he was dating, her voice about to sound on the machine’s speaker.

I asked what he did.

“I bearhugged the girl I was with around the ears and loudly said I was sooo glad to be with her.” Crisis averted. “She thought I was being really affectionate.”

Douglas frequently visited Rhode Island from Chicago for business and took up with a side-woman here. One night, I got a call from his hometown girlfriend who’d found a letter from his Providence paramour. The Chicago girlfriend wanted me to explain what was going on.

I had to weasel out of it on Douglas’s behalf, explaining that the Providence woman was, um, let me think – projecting a relationship that didn’t exist? Amazingly, she bought it. Forty years later, Douglas still owes me for that one.

We should give poor Warwick a break, because unsuccessful dating can happen anywhere in the state.

After being divorced, I had a date at what you’d think would be the ultimate Rhode Island locale for things to go smoothly – the restaurant at the Ocean House in Watch Hill. It was roughly halfway for both myself and a woman who was an ad hotshot at ESPN outside Hartford.

I think I blew it when I saw CNN notable John King – a Rhode Island guy – at another table. I excused myself to go chat with him, for probably too long, and the temperature at my own table had cooled when I returned.

Afterward outside, as she climbed into her car, I was about to ask through the window if she wanted to get together again, but before I got the question out, she peeled away, spraying a bit of gravel at my shins. I took that as a maybe.

In closing, I’d love to hear from any Warwick folks about the dating scene there. Is it better than what WalletHub says?

Or are you breaking your wrists swiping left?

mpatinki@providencejournal.com