As I wrote in my post "New Orleans Own: 9-5ers, the Next Generation" it's no secret there's no jobs here. Trying to find a mate? The lack of a job-market precludes the existence of yuppies, so who the hell is going to treat you to a fancy blueberry mojito at St. Joe's? You best stick to the child molesters who frequent Mae's. (Ok, there are well-dressed, affluent-looking young men at St. Joe's, but I'm not attracted to them because duh, I grew up here, and they're always with girls that are dressed better than me, and I'd rather drink dollar high lifes anyway!) But instead of shaking our fists in the air and screaming like Karen from Goodfellas, my man is in the can again, he's gotta go to rehab, what the fuck but I'm so attracted to him (maybe I'm confusing situations? I don't know. Mafia hottie vs. Joe Deadbeat?) we ought to tap into the potential of this recent (Post-K) sociological addition to the dating pool: YURPS, or Young Urban Rebuilding Professionals. You better get one 'cuz they're going fast; who knows how long they'll even stick around? Post-collegiate drifters just slumming it like the hippies before they went to law school? Here to tap into our raw materials just as we might want to tap into what they've got? And then back to New England and the Mid-Atlantic? There are articles speculating these young studs' staying power.
Do you care about your city being rebuilt? Do you want a boy who believes in idealism, both the vague ideas and the concrete realities, like, your body? How hot is a Jew boy with man's hands? I mean, nobody can resist that.
Right now I would like to publicly apply for the position of dating/sex columnist for the Times-Picayune. I am so much smarter than Carrie Bradshaw.