JANA HOCKING: I spent a week in the 'horniest city in the world' – and my wild encounters prove how boring Sydney men are

Last week I hopped on a big jet plane and headed to New York City. It was the start of a new year and I was looking for a big, glorious adventure – something that would bring my spark back after a year that felt a bit like groundhog day.

I love you guys from Sydney, but you guys aren't really doing it for me lately.

I didn't know I would be flying to the hottest city in the world. Huzzah!

I had promised myself to leave my ego, my overthinking brain and any form of hesitation behind in Sydney. When I landed, I was going to embrace my inner bravado and head out into a storm. No 'type' was off limits. White collar, blue collar, downtown, downtown, I wanted to meet them all.

I also wanted to avoid the apps because, as I've said before, they can be a total waste of time. Plus, I wanted to see if I could really make my own “meet-cute” moments happen.

I had no time to waste, I had seven days in this glorious city and I wanted to make them count.

The first sign that this city was a horndog of a city appeared as I was going through customs after a long 21 hour journey from Sydney to New York. It's safe to say I didn't look particularly appetizing, but when I handed over my passport and told the semi-handsome security guy where I was staying, he boldly exclaimed, 'Oh, that's right near me! Are you going to take me out for dinner?'.

Hello New York!

I was a little grumpy after my flight and had to deal with a grumpy driver via text message who threatened to leave me at the airport, so I barked “No!” and then ran to the exit.

Nevertheless, I vowed that the next time I was faced with a dating opportunity, I would be a little more open to the idea.

My next stumbling block was the weather; it was the coldest week in New York in recent memory. Sure, I packed thermals, a big winter coat, and a few pairs of jeans, but the rest of my wardrobe consisted of cute outfits that I thought would catch the eye of a New York gentleman or two.

Nevertheless, the next day I dressed up for brunch and a party with some girlfriends and wore a black miniskirt, stockings, black velvet knee-high boots, and a black turtleneck.

The bar was packed, because if there's one thing New Yorkers are particularly good at, it's brunch! I was thrilled to discover it was 50/50 men and women (a welcome change from the 90 percent women's ration of Sydney brunches), so I marveled.

I was thrilled to discover that the guys there are BIG fans of eye contact. There were flirty looks all around the bar, but by the time I worked up enough (rosé) courage to strike up a conversation, it was time to head to a party across town.

Now here was the next stumbling block. When we entered the bar, I saw that there were large TVs everywhere. It was the NFL playoffs and every guest at the bar was actively involved.

Seriously, I could have walked across the bar naked and not a single man would have noticed. Fortunately, the game was finally over and the men were fired up with post-game endorphins. (Go exercise!).

My friends and I were chatting with everyone, including a gentleman wearing a charming hat that said “Show Me That Butthole.”

Um, did I mention this city is hot?

I struck up a conversation with a handsome, bearded gentleman and found myself reliving my high school disco days as we walked in the corner as teenagers. Glorious.

Before long, jet lag hit me in the face like a brick wall, so I slipped and slid to a taxi.

The next morning I woke up to a few thirsty texts from the guy, but I wasn't here to date just one guy. So, after a day of looking around, I got dressed again and went to Pete Davidson's bar with a wonderful gay friend.

This time I didn't make the mistake of dressing like a shady fraudster. I had found a few articles saying that New York was all about “Mob Wife” fashion vibes this winter, so I put on a sexy red knit dress, gold hoops, the same black velvet boots, and a killer gangsterish cheetah printed jacket.

When I entered Pete's 'Pebble Bar' downtown, I was immediately struck by that BDE (big d**k energy) he is famous for. This bar was sexy! With large black leather booths, sleek retro wallpaper and red velvet lounge chairs, it was one big aphrodisiac of a bar.

It was in this bar that I discovered one reason why this is a hot city. Martinis. Very generous free-pour martinis. As my handsome boyfriend Andrew and I downed the dirty gin concoctions, I was ready to go for the primal.

Andrew left for a date and I decided to stay and chat with the locals. Within minutes I was sitting in the check box with the attendant flirting up a storm. As he took coats and I handed them the receipts, we chatted about life, love and the dating scene in each other's cities. It turns out that the men of New York are just as baffled when it comes to dating as us ladies.

I eventually said goodbye and ended it, but not before trading Instas for healthy flirting.

The next day I decided to treat myself to a day of shopping and a wonder around the Met, before popping into a bar (which looked suspiciously like the Cheers bar) for a glass of wine while I read my book.

Let me just say for the record that I didn't look cute. I had my big snow coat, a woolly hat and snow-soaked hair. It seemed I had waged a war with the weather and lost.

I wasn't there to pick up, so what happened next was a pleasant surprise. I was sitting at the bar and two men who could have been sitting anywhere in the empty bar sat next to me. I quickly ducked to the toilet to see if I could perk up my look and when I returned to the bar there was a hot cider and rum shot waiting next to my book.

I looked surprised and one of the men said to me, 'We noticed your Australian accent when you ordered your wine and we thought you were probably not used to this cold, so we thought this might warm you up'. Soft!

Even though I looked like a snow beast, the men of New York will still have a crack.

The next night I made an epic dating blunder, but in my defense, Your Honor, it honestly wasn't my fault.

I had been out to dinner with the same girls from brunch, and we decided to visit a bar that I discovered catered to New York's “finance brethren.”

It was here that I saw a Frenchman with a very handsome beard and decided to embrace my inner New York goddess and approach him. Within minutes we were chatting and drinking free martinis again. My friend was looking forward to his friend and so they were happy days.

Did he eventually come back to my hotel? Yes, yes, he did. After a really nice night I put it out and woke up to some very romantic French lyrics. Sweet.

Well, that was until my boyfriend called an hour later and revealed he was married. She heard about it from his friend that morning and rushed to tell me.

Gaaah. I was looking for adventure in New York, but not that kind of adventure.

Unusually, I chose not to confront him about it. I was leaving in a few days and decided to just block him and move on. Drama was not on my agenda.

A few days later I boarded the plane back to Sydney with a big smile on my face and the promise of bringing that hot dating culture back to Sydney.

If there's one thing I've learned from this journey, it's to just go for it. No need to swipe left and right. Just make eye contact, strike up a conversation at the bar or wear something quirky that you can start a conversation with.

The one thing New Yorkers don't do is overthink things. It's a numbers game and those numbers will occasionally be in your favor. Ladies, honestly, if you're craving some good old fashioned flirting in a city that can't get enough of an Aussie accent, you need to book that trip.

New York, you're a hot city, and I just can't get enough of you.

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