Movin’ and Groovin’

I was recently at a woman’s clothing store, when I struck up conversation with the girl behind the register. She told me that she just moved to New York City from Texas with her boyfriend and was unhappy here.

She was having a hard time getting adjusted to city life but was trying to stay positive about meeting new people, eventually coming to love her new city. As she handed me my bag, she told me she was trying to convince her boyfriend they should move back to Texas.

Feeling sorry for the girl, I wished her luck and did my best to assure her that if and when she just gave it some time, she’d meet some amazing new friends. She didn’t look so sure. And I could read the sadness on her face.

This conversation between me and this store clerk lasted less than one minute, and yet it stuck into my mind. As someone who truly values friendship and considers good friends a gift, I completely understood her loneliness.

New York is a tough city to navigate in, to live in and to find friends in. In fact, it’s a pretty lonely city. Every minute you are surrounded by hundreds of people—strangers, really, although in truth, more likely you are separated by six degrees. And even though sometimes I love the fast pace of life in Manhattan, there are so many times when I feel completely lost and alone. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat alone at the counter of a diner with my food and a magazine and I’m completely content one minute…then the next minute, I am blinking away tears, attempting to fight a loneliness that comes from being just a small fish in a big concrete pond.

The people you’ve viewed as your enemies over the years—especially the friends who’ve stabbed you in the heart and left a scar—fade into the darkness and suddenly it dawns on you: you have become your own worst enemy.

Because you’re mad at yourself for not being able to fight the feelings of abandonment, of being alone. I am thirty years old, dammit, I tell myself, and right now I have the same overwhelming feeling I had when I was in camp at 7 years old and was the last kid picked for kickball. When you’re this lonely, you’ll talk to anyone. The need for decent conversation in a city full of transient strangers devours you like a hunger.

And even knowing you are fortunate enough to be blessed with a solid friend circle, you remind yourself they’re not physically here with you now; you’re on your own.

I’m lonely, I’ll think. I have a great group of friends, but why do I feel so alone? Now imagine coming from another state and feeling this way. At least I am a native to the state and have my parents nearby. But still…whether you’re a native New Yorker or a newbie, NYC is such a transition city that when you start clicking with new people and meet new friends, you’re all buddy-buddy for about three months, then they vanish. This whole concept of brief friendships in NYC has never made sense to me.

OK, let’s start at the beginning. You meet new people at the gym, a party, a book signing, on facebook, whatever. Then, when you least expect it, they move home to Portland, Seattle, Baltimore, wherever. They badmouth New York, go into their ‘it’s so expensive’ lambast and in a backhanded way, almost make you feel moronic that you (ironically) kind of like living in this city. They boast about how amazing their new—or old!—city will be/or is compared to New York. And in flash, they’re gone, you never really keep in touch and now you’re back to square one trying to meet new people.

Repeat. Repeat. A tiny part of you thinks, wow, I must be so boring they want to move and get away from me. No, that’s a naïve and silly thought, you tell yourself. But you can’t fully shake it…

I’m sitting at a small diner on my lunch break, and the waiters nod at me in recognition, which is nice on such a windy day. As usual, my sunglasses are perched on my head, they give me comfort and make my eyes and head feel protected from any negative energy that may come my way. I hear chatter all around me. I have learned that the less negativity I have surrounding me, the better.

I look around the restaurant and think, who are these people? What are their stories? Are these people I’d befriend? Would they befriend me? Have we crossed paths before?

The oddity of the whole situation is this—I am a native New Yorker who has lived in the direct NYC area for almost 10 years now. And even though my family’s just a 45-minute train ride away and I have friends here, my heart aches with loneliness on a frequent basis. It’s amazing to me how you pass so inconspicuously down the streets of Manhattan—just a face in the crowd—humming a song under your breath and no one pays any attention to you, like you’re a nobody.

You tell yourself over and over…I am somebody. I’m somebody’s daughter, somebody’s friend, somebody’s girlfriend, somebody’s sister, somebody’s employee, somebody’s neighbor.
And I’ll continue to be just a face in the New York City crowd.

I’ll continue to make small talk with strangers because maybe—just maybe—one of them will say something interesting or inspiring and provide me with food for thought that we’re all thirsty for in this crowded city. Because even though I live in a city of strangers, some of whom I’ve loved and some of whom I’ve lost, I still believe in innate goodness. That strangers can be ‘good.’ Besides, making small talk with strangers sure as hell beats feeling alone.

I pay the bill, slide my dark sunglasses down my face, and slowly walk into the crowds that pass me by. I fit right in physically, but not emotionally. I want to join in the conversation of the people walking in front of me. I’m probably coasting the sidewalk with my chin down, because I’m having one of those days. Give me a few minutes, I’ll lift my chin to the clouds. Just be patient. Please.

I may feel like the streets have no name, the people start to look the same and a black umbrella doesn’t stop the rain. Hey, to you, I’m a face. To me, I’m worth small chatting with. Because I have a name, I know who I am, and that’s what keeps me movin’ and groovin’.