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You know how you meet a man, and you are crazy about him and you think he is the absolute deal and he’s all you think about and there isn’t an inch on his body that you wouldn’t lick and you basically want to marry him and have all his babies? And then, after a while, there are a few things that start to irk you. Maybe he snores or repeatedly mispronounces a word or drinks a little too much sometimes or he is never on time. And you’re like, this is aggravating but I can deal. We can compromise, right? But then, you notice all the things that made you fall so madly in love with him are vanishing. Maybe he’s not all that honest, his shower singing is now annoying, or you hate the ring tone he’s selected for his alarm clock on his iPhone. And suddenly, you wake up one morning, all tired because he hogged the bed, and you’re like, what the hell am I doing here? When did I start feeling this way? And you look at him and you realize you really do love him but he doesn’t excite you. Your eyes have been curiously wondering. And you’re all like, fuck, how can you recover those fun, adventurous feelings? How can you get the magic back?

This is exactly how I feel right now about New York City.