Ok, so real talk, I was naively optimistic about finding love in NYC. I had real hopes of finding a new man to complement my East Coast life. I was positive about this happening even when my girl (who was a five-year NY veteran) warned me about the real struggle of women trying to find a man in New York. I finally understood the forewarnings about a month after she left and went back to California. Hah.

In fact, I have since come back down to Earth with my expectations/views on NY men. I probably have the most pessimistic view ever. I give up. I gave up about three months ago.

My brain was filled with ridiculously simple lady-fantasies.

I had one where I am riding through a country road, appreciating East Coast fall foliage while holding the man who's driving hand.

I had another where I am enjoying a 5-star meal during NY Restaurant Week, sitting across from a dude who can appreciate the food just as much as I do.

Then there's the really simple one where I am just waiting to cross the street and he steals a long, deep kiss.

I had hopes of falling IN love in New York City.

But you know what happened instead?

I fell in love WITH New York City. I should've known. I always loved this city, but being in love with it is a whole new experience.

I love when strangers share a moment of kindness, like a man helping a lady carry a stroller up subway stairs. I love it when I need to cab it back on the Manhattan bridge and I stare directly at its neighboring BK version. I love it when I walk miles, unknowingly, because the days are that beautiful and the nights are mild. I love seeing the Empire State building lit up and trying to figure out how the colors are relevant. I love how every weekend is a freakin' adventure, cause even though I don't believe Mr. Right is right around the corner, its fun as hell pretending he is, and hey… maybe he actually is (I guess all hope is not completely lost). I love the hustle and bustle. I love the life.

I love you, New York City.