You would think after you’ve seen a man take a dump while standing up, as you casually stroll through Central Park, you would be traumatized for life. Maybe I am and just don’t know it.

I heart NY: the place where people only literally give a shit.

Like many young fools, I moved to New York straight out of college. I visited the city only once before moving and that was to find an apartment. It took two days, one $200 sheet of apartment listings and sheer audacity (or was it naivete?) to finally find a place that a) didn’t scare me and b) didn’t smell like pee.

Why did I move to New York? Concrete jungle where dreams are made of, haven’t ya heard? In truth, it’s much simpler than that. I did it because I wanted to. It’s an honest answer, but not one that satisifes curiosity. What are you going to do there? Why do you want to move? When are you coming back?

What’s the answer they’re looking for?

I can’t think of what I consider the worst parts of New York because it would take away from the city as a whole, as silly as that might sound. So I saw a guy take a dump, well I also had a guy try to masturbate through his pants sitting next to me on a bench. I walked sixty blocks in four-inch heels on the blistering hot August day the electricity went out all over the city. My street smelled of garbage. My apartment had curtains held up by duct tape. My neighbor had nightly fights with a ghost (or a hallucination). I didn’t know Ikea delivered a bed frame in pieces.

So what?

I did as many touristy things as I could. I loved the falafel cart and grew very fond of fried plantains with hot sauce. I hung out in Rucker Park. I drunkenly yelled at a homeless man on Bleecker for calling me a yuppie when I didn’t have a smoke to give him. I went to a gynecologist who had hanging beaded curtains in her office and wrote me a note after my check-up that literally said, ‘Vag looks good.’ No one cared about me. In a good way. I could be someone different every day and no one would notice. I could walk down 5th Avenue and have the doormen tip their hats to me, because I could be someone important for all they knew. No one put me in a box. No one tried to size me up.

New York taught me how to quit trying to satisfy other people for choices in my own life. The city taught me to be braver, more carefree, and confident. I thought the vagabond in me would settle down post-New York. Turns out, it was just the starting point for my adventurous spirit. New York will always feel a little like home to me. It will always have a place in my heart, because I know it will always take me back. People who perceive the city as rude or unfriendly have it all wrong. The people are willing to embrace you, you just have to keep pace.  Should I ever return, I’m sure I would fall right back into step as if I’d never left.

Ahhh New York, one of the best chapters of my life. I did it because I wanted to. It may not be the answer that pleases, but some days it’s the only I answer I have. For the moment, it’s enough.

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