No committed blogger wants their blog to become a cliché, but I can't help referencing the "Sex and the City" axioms conveyed by Carrie Bradshaw during the six great seasons of love, sex, friendship, brunches, unaffordable shoes and Manhattan.
My days in New York City aren't episodes of being-Carrie-Bradshaw with Manolo Blahniks, Upper East Side brownstones (that were actually filmed downtown and continue to bring hordes of tourists that drive the locals crazy) and voluminous consumption of Magnolia Bakery cupcakes without gaining a pound. But it's nice to come home to my Manhattan apartment and take a break from reality with a TV show starring the city that I love ... even if I have to wonder how many times Carrie "can't help but wonder ..."
Tonight a repeat of the series finale aired on TBS, and Carrie spoke the last of her immortal clichés: "Later that day, I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic. Those that are old and familiar. Those that bring up lots of questions. Those that bring you somewhere unexpected. Those that bring you far from where you started. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you find someone to love the you that you love ... well, that's just fabulous!"
New York transplants - like me - develop a relationship with this city. We walk a thin line between love and hate. The city grows to become old and familiar yet never fails to provide the new and exotic. It brings questions and unexpected answers. And it's taking me further from where I started than any other city could. Maybe because I want it to take me.
The New Yorkers who go the distance are the ones who always find 10 reasons to love this city for every one reason they hate it. It's what draws millions to move here and keeps few from following excuses to leave.
I've accepted that I'll never turn the key to my own Manhattan brownstone or slip on a pair of Manolo Blahnicks bought at full purchase price, and my narrative thoughts and meaningful conversations aren't set to background music, but I have the fantasy in syndication and the real thing right outside my window.
I can see "Sex and the City" from the beginning again next Tuesday on TBS, and I can find myself becoming a New Yorker right here whenever I want. It's not that I don't want my life to become a cliché, but there's a reason why I'm not the first to live life the way I am choosing to live it.