Singles serving

A dramatization of the author’s big night at DuMont Burger.

Photographs: Zandy Mangold

Thursday
Gottino (52 Greenwich Ave at Perry St, 212-633-2590)

7:49pm
It seems that everyone has gotten wind of this trendy new enoteca. The narrow, brick-walled space is teeming with young singles. I squeeze in next to a basin of chilled prosecco and eye my prospects.

7:51pm
Two stools open up. A pair of clean-cut guys snag them before I can say “yuppie.” I engage in friendly banter, trying to share in the real estate and possibly a glass of vino, but they coldly tell me of their plan to acquire more seats for their friends. Rejected and relegated back to the basin, I order a salad.

8:17pm
A couple vacates a spot. I quickly grab my endive-and-blood-orange salad with a crème fraîche dressing, which spills down onto the back of a young woman. Whoops. Settling in to my superior perch, a couple inquires about my dish then swiftly turn their backs on me, blocking my view of the crowd. I watch the candle come dangerously close to lighting one of their jackets on fire. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing.

8:21pm
I eat the remainder of my salad with elbows in. Every delicious bite makes it worth the pain, though I am resigned to writing off tonight as yet another learning experience. From my mini experiment, I’ve gathered that eating solo earlier in the week is more conducive to cruising than on say, a Thursday (a.k.a. date night), and different locales offer different types of diners. Feeling more confident with my hard-earned insights, I fantasize of my return, hopeful that Gottino will be less crowded, and I will not be alone.