The title of this blog implies a certain level of single-ness…or at least I think it does. I say that new york is my boyfriend because I love NYC more than I’ve ever loved any guy. Our relationship is exciting, full of new things and opportunities, and is the longest romance I’ve been in. But as my real-life romantic interactions get more and more disappointing, I can’t help but feel I’m doing something wrong.
I always joke to my friends that if I ever get married, I’m still going to have my own bedroom. I told my mom the other day that in my ideal marriage, my husband would travel 364 days a year. I value my privacy and independence, and I have a hard time believing that I’ll ever meet a guy who I’d want to share an apartment with for the rest of my life.
But as I binge-watch The Office for the third time and swoon over Jim and Pam’s relationship once again, I can’t help but wonder: When is it going to be my turn to be chased? When will a guy like me enough to spend months courting me, trying to make me laugh, showing how much he cares about me? I really don’t expect much, but I would be cool with finding someone to go to the movies with once in a while.
I wish Carrie Bradshaw knew what Tinder was so she could help a girl out.