Jenna: Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?

I've returned to the world of internet dating in an effort to curb my boredom and excessive drinking and channel my pent up energy in a different direction. Plus, I've grown tired of looking at the same people every Saturday night and figure that even the worst case scenario is not so bad. Lately, I've been drawn to the rugged, masculine, woodsman type, but have been finding them in short supply among the New York online dating community. Surprise, surprise. But I have not let this deter me.

I went on two dates a couple of weeks ago with attractive, interesting gentlemen. It wasn't that I had a bad time. It wasn't that I didn't find them engaging. They were both just, in their own unique way...for lack of a better word...dainty. The first was immaculately well dressed and put together, but had a strong, feminine energy that was impossible to ignore. He felt more like the Will to my Grace than the Fred to my Ginger. Lovely to be sure...but kind of like a lady. Behind Door Number Two, was an equally delightful person, very intelligent, with whom I had a very interesting conversation about the world and other important things. He was a slight, bespectacled guy with slender wrists and calves the size of my forearms. My physical self and energy felt so extremely overpowering despite our good banter, that I couldn't help feeling larger than life in comparison. Whilst checking people out on the subway (which I do with embarrassing and borderline creepy frequency), I can't help but notice this epidemic among the men of New York. Sure, you can blame the hipsters, the indie rock scene, or the introduction of skinny jeans...but the fact remains; I think I might be more masculine than 75% of the men in this city. What's happened to the strapping, burly, manly men in this town? Ones with strong arms, broad chests, and deep, sexy voices with a bit of testosterone still coursing through their veins. In other words...where have all the cowboys gone?

I don't need a mountain man or a football player. I am a fiercely independent woman who might certainly threaten such a man. So maybe I'm asking too much. Maybe the pushy broads of the world are better off with mensches (if you don't know what this word means, ask a Jew). But every once in awhile, a sassy girl like me really wants someone to take control, act like a man, and treat me like a woman. Make plans, take responsibility for things, buy dinner, hold the door open, kiss me deeply and passionately, and throw me around in the sack a little. Every once in awhile I like not having to make every single decision. And I'm not too keen on moving to rural America to find my Stetson man. I'd never survive. So...where are you urban cowboys? I'm now accepting applications and have no intention of giving up. If it means a revolution, so be it. Gentlemen of New York, hide your skinny jeans. I'm prepared to destroy them one pair at a time.