New York City -- center of the universe. Every year, thousands of people move to the Big Apple to make all of their dreams come true. For the first year it's awesome -- you've made a ton of new best friends who love going out, having random sex and partying until the sun comes out. By year two, you've settled in a bit, gotten rid of the dead weight in the friends department and found a lovely 100 square foot apartment to call your own. Things in your third year are fun, but not as entertaining, and reality begins to set in because you haven't taken a day off of work in four weeks and still can't afford your rent. If you can make it here, you're told that you can make it anywhere, but "making it" consists of never having any money, not eating for days because you can't afford it and hoping that the mysterious rash on your leg that you got when you moved into your new apartment will magically go away because you don't have health insurance with your new job. Maybe New York isn't as great as we think it is. Here why:
There are only two seasons in New York -- excruciating heat and bitter cold. Spring is fun for about three days, then it proceeds to rain for weeks on end and then the heat sets in and the streets smell of piss and vomit. Fall is even worse. You get about four nice days and begin to think: "Yeah, I love fall!" Then it rains, then it sleets, then it snows and then it's winter and you don't leave your apartment for four months. The next time I hear someone say: "Fall is my favorite season in New York," I'm not only going to remind them of the endless days of rain, but I am going to backhand them as well.
It's the best place to be if you're having a good day...
But if you're having a bad day, watch the fuck out, because New York is going to make sure your day turns out 10 times worse then when it began. Got fired from your job? Have no fear, on your way home from work, New York will make sure it rains or snows on you en route to your place and now that you've lost your 400th umbrella this year and refuse to buy a new one -- you're soaked. It won't end there! The subway won't work, you'll get trapped behind several thousand tourists who have no idea where they're going on your way back to your apartment and no less than ten homeless people, who all own iPhones will ask you for a dollar.
There are too many gay people.
I love gay people, hell, I am one! However, every single gay person in America feels like they need to move to New York in order to be accepted. So what does that leave us with? Hundreds of thousands of sex-crazed men who are more interested in going out and partying than a relationship. So while you may have more items on the menu then, if you were to date in say, Fayetteville, Arkansas, navigating your way through the gay community in New York is harder than trying to sit through an entire episode of RuPaul's Drag Race.
Everyone is full of shit.
Everyone in New York has a story to tell, but most of those stories are contrived BS. Let's face, when you live on the island of Manhattan, you're special, there's no doubt about it, but the things people will say to get attention in this town is off the wall crazy and usually only half the truth. I know, because I'm one of those people.
Everyone works their asses off.
Everyone who moves to New York wants to shine in whatever field they pursue, however this is a city where literally only the cream rises to the top. You really have to work your ass off to make it and working is hard, time-consuming and takes away from the time that you could be conditioning your hair or sleeping with your hot neighbor.
There are a ton of great restaurants.
Which is awesome, unless you have severe undiagnosed ADD and it takes you too long to decide which one to go to, so instead of going somewhere fabulous, you end up eating at the Renaissance Diner on 54th St. and Ninth Avenue for the fourth time that week. Not that I've done that or anything.
It's the epicenter of culture.
New York has more to offer culturally than almost any other city in the world. However, I don't care what anyone says, no one really likes going to the ballet, the opera or museums. If you have actually gone to the opera this year, it was because your friend had a free ticket and it was: "A very New York thing to do and there wasn't a good party happening that night" so you took the ticket, but didn't pay for it because you're too broke to afford that shit, even though you're working three jobs. Deep down inside, you know that you'd rather be watching Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark. Don't front. You know you would. As bad as that crap is, people being flung from the rafters and nearly meeting their death in order to entertain you is much more thrilling that a fat woman singing a language you never bothered to learn. Come on, admit it, it's okay, no one will criticize you... except for your friend who invited you to the opera who thinks that "all theater is trash" but secretly listens to the cast recording of Starlight Express every night before he goes to bed so that he can make fun of you to your face and not look like a hypocrite.
People will do anything to get attention.
Including sleeping with anyone to gain popularity, creating a fake profession for themselves in order to feel special or monopolizing social media to gain followers in order to make it seem as though they are important. Guess what? Your Twitter followers aren't going to pay your rent, boo. Everyone in New York wants to feel important, but guess what: you're just as unimportant as the rest of us.
New York is the home to every mentally unstable girl in the country.
It's not uncommon to hear women walking down the street on any given day saying things like: "OMG, Tiffany! [They're always named Tiffany] Roger never called me back. I stood outside of his apartment for like two hours last night, saw the light was on and kept calling him, but he never picked up the phone. That's not creepy, that's me trying to play it coy." Or, "Margo, I think Peter got me pregnant last night but I'm too scared to go to the clinic to find out, so I am just going to say he got me pregnant, hope he puts a ring on it and move forward from there." I suggest the New York Department of Health starts monthly Valium drops for all of the single, desperate women who inhabit NYC's streets. And by women, I also mean gay men, and by gay men, I mean myself.
People are snobs for no reason.
If I hear one more person say: "Brooklyn? I'm not going to Brooklyn for love or money!" Oh really? Your mother didn't plop you out of her vagina on the island of Manhattan. In fact, she gave birth to you in a shit shack somewhere outside of Gary, Indiana, which is, by far, the nastiest place in the world. Stop throwing Brooklyn shade, bitch. It's a hell of a lot cooler than wherever you came from originally.
Yeah, New York sucks. But it's kind of like crystal meth. Once you get a taste of it, however bad it is for you, you never want to live without it.
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