I never thought New York would be the one for me. For years I chased my wanderlust through Paris, San Francisco, Seattle, Boston, and more. I trusted the collegiate path, did my time, and went for a big-girl job. When the offer was NYC, my soul soared at the possibilities.
In my months of preparation, I’ve read all of your reasons that I’ll fall in love with NYC. I’ve also read your reasons I should stay away. Yet when my internal pillow chat rolls back around, it’s always the same anxieties and fantasies there to play. With all of your advice and all bullshit aside, and in celebration of my untarnished naiveté, here are the 28 things I imagine will happen when I move to NYC:
1. I will be madly in love with my extremely humble abode.
Size matters, but the idea of owning (yeah, yeah, leasing) even 5 square feet of Big Apple property feels like an accomplishment all its own.
2. I will be forever alone.
Grown-woman dating scene? Terrifying. Tinder? Best for girl’s night entertainment. But…
3. I will be contently married to the hustle.
I’m in love with a job I haven’t started yet, and I’m ready to give it all I’ve got.
4. I will finally learn to eat right, out of broke assed-ness and necessity.
I’m going to miss Ben & Jerry the most.
5. I will lose my claim to authenticity.
Excuse my depressing honesty, but it’s full disclosure. I cherish my Midwestern honest tendencies and depth. I’ll do everything I can to hold on tight.
6. I will finally be able to accept the fact that there’s no practical relevance to the assignment of letters AND numbers to the subway lines.
I can’t be the only one. WTH?!
7. I will still love the tourist destinations.
They hold just about the only NYC memories I’ve already made. And I’m relentlessly corny like that.
8. I will feel like Blair Waldorf fiending after my secret society key.
So many fabulous people at fabulous parties with fabulous stories. It all has to start somewhere. Where is that NYC rabbit hole?
9. I will find my McClaren’s.
At least I didn’t say Central Perk, right? Okay, I’ll admit, that too.
10. I will get back in touch with the arts.
Years of existence in a college-town bubble—while I wouldn’t trade the experience for a thing—has a way of stagnating your cultural growth.
11. I will finally escape recognition of my “Cleveland A” accent.
A blessing and a curse. I see myself drifting into a sea of misplaced Midwestern tongue.
12. I will master the art of being comfortably alone in a sea of people.
They say it takes months. I see this as the NYC tipping point.
13. I will blink and my entire wardrobe will fade to black.
14. I will miss my fluency in French.
The melting-pot experience has a way of making you feel abashedly American.
15. I will be inspired by the strangers that scoff at my attempts to run Central Park.
That’s still fitspo in my eyes. That, or the crowds will be enough to convince me to accept my lack of natural ability.
16. I will become endlessly thankful for my preference for black coffee.
Starbucks or gas station, I really don’t care. Give me the fuel.
17. I will discover the city girl’s secret to a successful night out in high heels.
No stumbles. No bare feet. Just glamour and a literal new POV.
18. I will have an even harder time cutting off Netflix binging sessions.
Because crowds. Because trains. Because pants.
19. I will miss driving my car.
Yeah, saving gas and insurance payments and the Earth and shit…it will be great. But it’s new and it’s red and it feels like freedom.
20. I will care less about enemies.
Much like Piper Chapman, I have imaginary enemies. Much like other strong-willed women, I have real ones. I can’t wait to grow my new, thicker layer of NYC skin and be even more comfortable just being me.
21. I will feel like a true city-dweller once I get into an efficient and cost-effective laundry routine.
Again, if you know the secret, let me in on it. I’ll pay in quarters.
22. I will take semi-regular trips to Connecticut beaches…right?
Am I way off base?
23. I will mysteriously find my way to these cool rooftop shenanigans you’re always Instagramming.
And brunches. And speakeasies.
24. I will either cherish or dread commute time.
It’s an absolute binary.
26. I will increasingly resent the lie that is Samantha Jones.
I’m a blonde female moving to NYC to work in the PR industry. Stereotyping kills.
27. I will spend a healthy amount of time coercing different family members to visit me for the holidays.
The way I see it, they won’t be able to resist the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade.