Lessons learned
Can't wait to say 'when I lived in New York' every other sentence and have everyone gradually stop texting me back.
I’m leaving New York on Monday and moving back to London. It’s not precisely the circumstances I wanted to leave under (I actually didn’t want to leave at all) but in lieu of other options I have decided to be excited about it.
The two years I lived here have been the most incredible, frustrating, magical, boring, spectacular, mundane, sociable, lonely, love-filled heartbroken best worst years of my life. And I learned some things. Enjoy.
- It takes five minutes to get married and six months to get divorced.
- Your break-up song of choice may surprise you. Mine turned out to be Love on the Brain by Rihanna. Ours is not to reason why.
- A good friend will try and talk you out of making self-destructive decisions. A very good friend will know you’re going to do it anyway and prepare themselves to scrape you off the floor after it all goes wrong.
- The wrong romantic partner will make you feel like you have to distill yourself down to the most attractive five percent of your personality, to be unobtrusive and, for all intents and purposes, invisible. To never ask for anything. The right romantic partner will show you that you can be every horrible, fantastic, mesmerizing, disgusting part of yourself and they’ll ask you to show them even more. They’ll show you that you can ask for whatever you want, and they’ll give you things you didn’t even realize you needed. The right romantic partner will love you.
- But on that note, if you continually date people who are literally waving their red flags in your face, you have no-one to blame but yourself when things end badly, in the same way, every time.
- In the subway, downtown always means Brooklyn unless you’re at the Bowery J stop, in which case it means downtown.
- Humans can withstand and rebound from pretty much anything.
- Tolerance is vital to the success of a relationship. It might be the most important part of a relationship, beyond someone being funny, beyond shared interests, beyond good sex.
- An aubergine is called an eggplant in the US.
- New York is ludicrously expensive. The only way to survive is to act like it’s all Monopoly money and nothing counts. There is no point complaining about how expensive it is; no-one cares.
- Sometimes your iPhone screen will crack the first time you drop it, sometimes it will crack the tenth time you drop it. Stop dropping it.
- There is no point planning ahead. You can have every inch of your five year plan mapped out down to the last detail, and a pandemic, or a breakup, or turning right instead of left, can completely derail it. Do not plan more than five days ahead. Be adaptable, like Catwoman here.
- It is immeasurably preferable to spend time alone than with people who make you feel like crap.
- Everyone thinks they can do a British accent. No-one can.
- You can convince yourself you are functioning at a purely practical level, because you have to, because there are so many logistical things you need to deal with, but the mountain of shit you are stifling underneath all your flight bookings and Facebook marketplace listings and apartment viewings is still there, and will explode out of you and onto other people at inopportune moments. Grow up. Go to therapy.
- American people are just like British people, only more so.
- Bodegas are not grocery stores. Do not buy vegetables from them. Buy grilled cheese sandwiches and black market cigarettes from them at odd hours of the night.
- You should always, always, be evolving and analyzing and improving on your personality and the way you interact with people, because everyone sucks, so try not to suck more than you have to.
One good thing:
Last weekend, I took the train up to the topmost tip of Central Park, put on an intentionally emo playlist, and walked all the way down to Battery Park.
I walked along the edge of the park, the trees all clinging to the last of their yellows and oranges, past the Guggenheim and the selfie-takers on the steps of the Met. I walked through Midtown, squeezing past all the tourists and Christmas shoppers making so much noise that I couldn’t hear the words of the excessively tragic music I was listening to. I walked through Madison Square Park and Union Square. I stopped to refuel and capitalize on the last opportunity to sample New York’s unparalleled cuisine (a McDonald’s double cheeseburger and a yoghurt from Morton Williams). I walked through the NYU campus, skirting around the students in their beanies and floor length jackets. I walked through the East Village, the boutique stores and innumerable bars. As I got to the Financial District the sun was starting to set, and I picked up the pace, speed-walking to the water’s edge. When I got to Battery Park I tried to get to the waterfront but there were barriers blocking the way, where people line up to take the ferry. This song came on in my headphones and I started running through the park, desperate to get to the bottom tip of New York to watch the sun set, terrified I was going to miss it by seconds, this unplanned but amazing occurrence of hitting this part of New York at the most beautiful time of day.
I was leaping over flowerbeds and dodging couples walking hand in hand, and then just as the violins hit this killer note I burst out onto the pier and saw all the water laid out before me, the sun streaking pink and grey across the sky, a ferry chugging slowly past. It was the single most cinematic moment of my entire life. I felt like I was running towards something important, the cameraman jogging behind me to catch the moment I reached it, or had a realization, or ran into someone who was going to change my life. All I was chasing was the last moments of the sun setting. But when I got to the railing I just started crying with the overwhelming-ness of it all. New York is the most beautiful place in the entire world.
One bad thing:
Leaving. Duh.
See you on the other side (of the pond).