It is really REALLY weird getting hit on in the West Village. One moment I'm content and warm in my gay, occasionally British bubble and the next thing I know Johnny Cargopants wants to know if I like to party. It's like when your mom shows up at school in the middle of the day, or you get dead-legged at Sunday brunch weeks after you forgot it had been issued. It's always gonna be super unpleasant and/or awkward but adding that element of surprise just makes you that much more of a bag of d's.