New York. NYC. Manhattan. The worst place on earth. Behind enemy lines. And now…it’s home (I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth). That’s right: I sold my soul to the devil and moved to freakin’ New York. I’ve been here a week and I still can’t believe I’m typing that. As a Bostonian, I feel like I’ve betrayed all of New England. But this is the move that I think will make me the happiest in the long run.
But before I get into the dirty (like, NYC street type dirty) detes, I want to quickly apologize for jerking you guys around more the last month than a thirteen-year-old who found a retro Jenna Jameson VHS. I’ve known I’ve been moving to NYC for months now and I’ve been holding out on you. But while breaking up with Boston has not been easy, it’s been a tremendous learning experience that has been hard not to share with you freak-a-leeks.
So here I am in New York. I’m currently sitting at my desk with a ridiculously insane view of mid-town from the 31st floor of my new apartment building. No joke, this is like a multi-million-dollar view. And hey! I’m only paying slightly less than that in rent!
When I first told you I was looking to move, you all came in hot with some great suggestions. Dallas, Charlotte, Rancho Cucamonga, Nashville, Kalamazoo, to name a few. All great cities, I’m sure. The thing is, even though I’m working remotely and can sort of live anywhere I want, the point of my move wasn’t necessarily a brand new fresh start in some city I’ve never been to with nobody I know currently living there, all while working from the friendly confines of my bedroom. Instead, I just wanted a move that would let me join all my friends. When I think about maybe the ten guys I could see as groomsmen at my wedding, and seven of them are in NYC, why wouldn’t I move to be with them?
While I’ve always sort of loathed NYC for being too loud, too crowded, too obnoxious, I’ve decide these are things I can learn to deal with if it means having exponentially more access to my best friends and to an ungodly amount of twenty-somethings, all of us battling being millennial together. And we’re all broker than college, because, you know, life in New York means you’re poor (except me, right now, because I’ve only been here a week, so I’m stashing my Jew gold under my mattress and never letting go, a la Rose in Titanic).
Am I nervous about leaving Boston? Helllllllll yeah. Am I nervous about being in New York? For sure. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t have my apprehensions. They say New York can be a lonely place. I guess I’ll find out. They say even though there are tons of single people, it’s hard to find a good one. I’ll find out. They say there aren’t too many championship parades in NYC, which is truly a shame because nothing would make me feel more at home than a championship parade (sorry, couldn’t resist). Maybe my move from Title Town can bring some banner-raising luck to one of the teams around here (*prays it’s the Mets*). Guess we’ll find out.
Now it’s journey time. I’ve said goodbye to Boston; that was step number one. From here on out, it’s discovery time. Self-discovery, new city discovery, new people discovery, maybe some Discovery Channel up in this bitch, too. I can be the city’s answer to Bear Grylls. We can call it Man vs City (which, now looking at that title, looks like a Premier League matchup). The point is, everything leading up to where I am now was just the beginning.
We’re not done here. I’ve got a journey, and it’s going to be a WILD ride. Already, for instance, I got in a (verbal) brew ha ha with the building management for trying to grease the maintenance men to get them to help me move. Almost got the ‘ol heave ho and had to turn the UHAUL right around and head back up to Boston.
Will I change the name of the series? Who knows. Top choices in the pipeline are “Max Meets Manhattan” and “Sex(less) in the City,” so maybe for now I’ll stick with SGTB. See you wackadoos next week…if I haven’t been beaten to a pulp by this city yet..