Besides, I don’t think I can do this --- leave New York. It took everything I had to get here. And now that I am here. I am building a life. But I feel like I still have stuff to do. And yes, sure when I moved here I really thought, I’d date a nice desi men, THE ONE, and then we’d move to the ‘burbs of Westchester and live out our marriage, get a mortgage and have some munchkins who would talk me into getting a dog that I would barely like walking. And it would be one of those wannabe seven pound dogs that yip instead of bark and of course I’d name the pooch, Killer.
But I don’t know, something small inside has shifted, a subtle but critical shift. I don’t know that I need kids. Yes, a husband would be great, someone to hang out with on the couch. Someone to have dinner dates with. Someone to get the dry cleaning and close out the honey-do list. Someone to take long walks in Central Park with. Someone to come home to and eat dinner at the dining table rather than do what I do, sit alone in the dark, on the floor eating Thai food and watching the telly. And what about all the things I want to see in New York, and the world. I'd like a life partner for that. And what about writing - I have yet to really push myself on that front.Who said my life has to look like Bhaiya's? Who said these are the rules? What if they are not the rules I want to live by?
Yes, yes – there are days I detest New York. Like in the really hot summer days, when the City smells like dog urine and overheated garbage. In the winter the ineptitude of removing snow from the streets is stunning. Yes, I understand that this is not Minneapolis, but it sure as sugar ain’t Miami. Removing snow should not be so foreign to the Public Works Department, it just shouldn’t. And if it is, then perhaps the City needs to fire some employees and get some new ones.
And this is an expensive place to live. Luckily I moved from Minnesota, which has to be one of the five most expensive states to live in, so the sticker shock was not totally mind numbing – but I pay a lot of money in taxes to fund the lifestyles of people who I think should get a job. It is not like anyone is helping me make ends meet.
But where would I go if I moved from here? I cannot go back to Minneapolis, I would only re-enter what I left and why leave if I was going back? I mean sure, I told myself if New York did not work out I could always go back. But I think that was more to cushion the blow that I was leaving. To give myself a golden parachute on the off chance I was one of those folks who could not cut it, who could not make it in New York.
And I have to live in a big city. I like the pace, I like the energy. I like that people are real and raw. Not pretending to be nice and like you. But for some reason, Boston, DC, Miami, and San Francisco don’t appeal to me – mostly because I would need a car if I lived anywhere other than Manhattan. And while I did not divorce my car, we sure are separated with limited contact.
I grab my phone and dial. “Tate,” I say when she picks up. “Yes,” she says. “I need help. I need a job,” I say. “I am on it. I will reach out to everyone I know. We need to update your resume, can you do it tonight and send it to me by morning?” she asks. “Yep.” This is one of the many, many things I love about her. She is Ms. Action Jackson. “What about your family and the business?” she asks. “What about it? This is about me taking care of me. My life needs to be about me. Besides, rent ain’t free,” I say. "Amen," she says.