Today is my ten year anniversary of moving to New York. Holy shit. Ten years in this place. Excuse me while I have a feel or two.
While I'm doing that here's a quick glance at my ten years in New York:
Apartments rented: 8
Apartments purchased: 1 (almost)
Roommates/domestic partners: 6
Full time jobs: 2
Lay offs: 1
Advertising agencies freelanced at: 19
Gym memberships: 2
First dates: 45
Celeb spottings: Too many to count (some highlights: Will Arnett & Amy Poehler, Tina Fey, Leonardo Dicaprio & Gisele, Jake Gyllenhall, SJP, Michael Gross - the dad from Family Ties) Bicycles: 2
Times seriously considered leaving: 2
New winter coats: 5
Visits to the Empire State Building: 1
And while we're at it here's a terribly embarrassing photographic evolution of what ten years in New York did to me. On the left, me at 25 (a wee babe!) with the most terrible highlights ever. If you knew me then why did you let me walk around like that?! I also had a couple extra pounds due to a love of shitty domestic beer and an aversion to exercise of any kind. On the right, me this summer at the ripe young age of 35.
The things is, everyone has a magic number. A number of years you have to live here before you earn your status as a true New Yorker. I'm not sure what that number is but I will say this, it takes awhile before New York gets in your blood. The first couple of years are exciting but you're still fighting with life here. Why is everything so hard? So expensive? So New York? But once it gets in, once your blood is coursing with this place, you're hooked. It's a little like heroin that way. I assume, of course. It's kind of crazy and fitting that my foray into New York homeownership is coinciding with my ten year anniversary, isn't it? Call me crazy but I guess ten years just wasn't enough for me. I'd like to hang out for a bit longer. What can I say?
I love New York.