Verboten has long been a hub of douche baggery in the Williamsburg nexus, but it was the kind that didn’t seem overly menacing until it was recently revealed that the owners, a married couple, engaged in rampant displays of racism and sexual harassment. While there is a woman at play in the co-owning of this den of sin (and not the good kind), the “man” married to her might have done well to abandon ship–because who you marry and go into business with says a lot about you.
How can anyone even tell what color you are in the dark anyhow?
What’s worse, maybe he only married her because of her ability to run things in the savage sort of way that he himself couldn’t go fully in on. While reports of his wife boasting about having more affairs than him is all very evolved, there’s something to be said for the “man” who isn’t with a shrew, or at least is able to tame one.
There are many “men” who feel that the so-called promise of Williamsburg, with its “dive bars” (e.g. Lucky Dog and Skinny Dennis), boutique hotels (Wythe and whatever that monstrosity nearby is going to be called), Eurodance clubs (Verboten) and faux bougie pizza (Fornino), is enough to impress a woman. It is not. If you want to get your prized pussy, you’re going to need to put in a lot more work than simply taking her to Williamsburg and expecting the locale to speak for itself.
At least Aladdin had a fucking magical carpet to show her the shit on
You are not Aladdin and this is not Arabia.You’re probably John from Ohio. So just embrace that fact and stop tyring to pass Wburg off as the epicenter of chic. And certainly don’t try to pass Bushwick off as chic either. Obviously, what I’m suggesting is flying her in a private plane to an exotic city if you truly want to secure lifelong wonderment and gratitude. ‘Cause a Styrofoam to-go cup from the Turkey’s Nest ain’t gonna cut it.