San Francisco in my old age

"I don't like cities/but I like New York/Other places/Make me feel like a dork."
-- from I Love New York by Madonna

A few years ago after a tough time, I decided to break out and travel solo. One of my first trips was New York City. During this time, I fell in love with everything: the subway, the configuration, the Anastasia brow studio inside the Times Square Sephora, the gigantic pretezels I had no intention of eating, The Met, MoMa, everything. I wanted to live in Manhattan. Dreams of packing up my Chevy Cavalier with all my books (because, honestly, I had no furniture) and pulling up to my West Village shoebox filled my mind as I applied and applied....and applied to every NYC job opening that came my way. Time marched on, I decided to quit my job and get another while applying to grad school and here we are. Not in New York. Not yet in grad school either, but that's for another post.

I went to NYC for a follow up visit this past weekend and I think I may have aged out of New York. It wasn't just the super sqeezed ride I had on the 1 train or the lack of public bathrooms near Washington Square Park. Don't get it twisted, NYC is still the place to be. For me, though, it's more of a great place to visit, but not a place I want to call home.

I'll just say it: I need a place that's ahead, yet laid back. Like San Francisco.

Mind you, I've never been to SanFran. I hear fantastic things about it. A good friend of mine once told me that it was one of the closest things we have to Europe in the U.S., which I took as a huge compliment to the city by the bay, seeing as my well-traveled friend sees Europe as the ultimate in culture and sophistication.

My co-worker also tells there is a warm side of San Francisco and a cool side. I'm partial to warmer temps, so I would naturally prefer the warm side. This is huge, though, considering that in Chicago, it's cold 9 months out of the year no matter what side you're on. At least you have an option in San Francisco.

On the plane ride home yesterday, I pondered if this was an age thing. Next month, I'll be 30. Like the tube top I wore brazenly in my early twenties, New York doesn't seem to quite fit me anymore. I want room for culture, politics and a healthy lifestyle, but I also want a quality of life I can, well, live with, for a long time to come.

I still love you, New York. But it's more of a long distance relationship that probably isn't going anywhere serious. I've been there before.