Jaded

Just like every other single (and non-single) girl in the free world, my Sunday nights used to revolve around Sex and the City. I used to idolize the ladies, and when I moved here, emulated them in every way that I could.

It took me a while to separate the reality of living in Manhattan from what I had envisioned, but I eventually found my own way to be, and learned to just enjoy the show for what it is: a fantasy of what life would be like if there were endless amounts of shoes, bags, food, cocktails, and men.

But the one thing I now find most enviable is not the free-flow of Cosmopolitans and beautiful designer clothing, but that they managed to maintain their sanity and hope after living in this city for many, many years.

Now, let me say, I love this city more than anything. I have loved (almost) every minute of living here. There is always something to do, always a new spot to discover, always someone new to meet.

Lately, however, I haven't been able to escape the feeling that with every passing day, I am getting more jaded and cynical. With every jackass that enters and disappears from my life, I find myself growing more distrustful of people, men especially.

This disturbs me because some of my favorite people are the ones that are the most open, most trusting, most soft. And I am turning into the opposite of that. I am growing harder, more cautious, less hopeful as time goes on.

So if I were to stay here another ten years, I can only imagine what I would become: a reptilian shell of someone who mistrusts everyone she comes across.

I'm not quite sure how to counter this transformation, other than to surround myself with positive people and emulate them, instead of fictional characters from SATC. And surrounding myself with people I do trust and care about can only be beneficial, right?

I still can't help but wonder how long a single girl can survive in this city, plow through the assholes here, and still maintain a semblance of optimism.

It leads me to wonder if my mother was right all along and I should relocate to Alaska, where I can find some rugged, handsome man to keep my cabin heated, if you get my drift.

And hey, I bet I would be a real hit in the middle of Anchorage. There's probably not THAT much going on. Which also means it's going to be hard for me to find a place to get a gyro at 3AM on a Tuesday.

Not like that'll be my primary concern when I'm on my sixtieth day of complete darkness and I have my rugged boyfriend keeping me company.

And just like that, there's some hope in me after all.