Look, we all like to goof on the G train and how the approximate wait time for one is “eons” and how it’s always split into two because the MTA hates it and Brooklyn. You can’t blame the G train for everything though, like getting in the way of your lousy romantic choices, yet that’s exactly what a bunch of people whining to DNAInfo did this morning. Shut up, you babies, the G train isn’t killing your love life.
Riding the G train is “punishing,” one delusional and presumably healthy human being said. “If you live off the G, you’re not for me,” declared another one. The G takes sooo long, according to these poor souls, that it just doesn’t make dating someone who lives off of it worth the trouble. What would these people be blaming their north Brooklyn/south Brooklyn romantic failures on, we wonder, if any attempt to see their sweetie required a trip into Manhattan before coming back to Brooklyn? And I say this as someone who once fell victim to the G train on a date. After my date and I just missed a late night train, I thought it would be a good idea to make out in the empty Fulton Street station. She did not, and thus 15 minutes of awkwardness commenced.
But that isn’t the G train’s fault, it’s my fault. Or her fault maybe. And the people in the article aren’t complaining about awkward moments wrought by the train. They just don’t like riding the G. Everyone who talked to DNAInfo about how it’s so hard to date someone on the G train could get around that by getting a bike. And since they’re healthy, strapping young people, it’s not like it would be a physical hardship to ride a bike to go get laid. We all want better G train service, but let’s keep a little god damn dignity as we demand it, OK?