This is a guest post by Kid Strangelove. Kid originally published this article at his own blog, but he deleted the site a while ago so he could focus on other projects. He asked me if I’d be willing to re-post some of his articles on my blog and I said yes.
New York, New York. The big city of big dreams. My hometown.
If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.
New York’s mystique is eternal, and for as long as the city has existed, so has art inspired by it. Saturday Night Fever exposed the disco era to the masses, Do the Right Thing exposed the hood, countless Woody Allen movies introduced us to a new brand of neurotic humor, and Sex and the City and Girls inspired countless women to relocate and change their lives.
There’s more, there’s way more. How I Met Your Mother, Seinfeld, Wall Street, 42nd Street, Midnight Cowboy, Taxi Driver, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, The Jeffersons, 30 Rock, Law and Order, Man on Wire: all set in New York.
Yep, New York City’s mystique is eternal and unquestionable, and there is nothing that I can do or say to make you think differently. People come here from all over the world to grind it out in their respective fields. Diplomacy, fashion, art, finance, technology: there is simply nothing in this city that is not represented.
If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.
Countless times I have read men’s web sites and forums, all swelling with love for my city, with people making it their life goal to move here. Indeed, New York City is a fantasy for many. Like having sex with Emma Watson.
(A pic of Emma Watson should go here to keep your attention, but I’m trying to make a point.)
But what if Emma Watson was an abusive cunt? What if she made your life a living hell? How would you react? And how would others react? I bet you there are men so thirsty out there that they would let Emma Watson abuse and humiliate them every day, and they would chastise you for refusing to put up with her bullshit. But enough about the Emma Watson analogy; I’m sure she’s a lovely person.
Don’t get me wrong: the New York fantasy is real. Clubs can pop off every night of the week. Ballers can ball. Hell, NYC is home to so many modeling agencies, to an outsider its hard to imagine this city without picturing one in every ten girls being a high fashion model.
But the road to the New York fantasy is paved with so many hardships, it’s enough to make some flip out and others quit chasing their fantasy, the same fantasy that drove them here in the first place. I have written about this before. I have written about how one by one, my friends are “settling” and becoming shells of their former selves. I have written about how in nightlife, the odds are stacked decidedly against men, even smack dab in the middle of Manhattan. I have written about all the overworked, weary young professionals. And yet, no one listens to me. The New York mystique is strong.
But then I saw something that showed all the points I’ve been making. An explosion of NYC frustrations all rolled up into one video. Prepare to see my New York, the New York devoid of mystique.
Yes. All of this was to introduce the following video. You ready?
Yep, there it is: the infamous SantaCon fight. You may have seen it before and you may have gotten a few chuckles out of it, but let me tell you a bit more about this video and how it reflects on my city.
New York City’s culture is “work hard, play hard,” and the result is that the biggest partiers are often the people that are the most overworked. Imagine working 14-hour days, feeling replaceable all the while, and then going to a sausage fest bar and seeing a horde of people just like you. There’s a reason why people call New Years’ Eve, Halloween and St. Patrick’s Day amateur hour, because those are some of the few times these guys allow themselves to let loose, and they always go overboard.
SantaCon is New York City’s newest drinking holiday, but unlike the other amateur hours, there is nothing to hold it back. No children, no traditions, no family time, no heritage. None of that. Just put on some Santa gear and get fucked up.
That video was recorded in the East Village, one of the most hip and expensive places to live. It’s known as a great place to meet girls, partly because of its proximity to NYU and partly because the neighborhood’s cheap drinks and plentiful bars always attract young professionals. But how many women did you count in that video?
Zero.
On a Saturday night, in one of the best neighborhoods in NYC, there are zero women visible. It’s just several angry, drunk and frustrated men, indistinguishable from each other because of their Santa outfits (instead of being indistinguishable because of their work uniforms). This is what happens when the animal that is man is caged up for so long.
This isn’t an isolated incident. This happens all the time. This happens when fantasy meets reality.
Don’t get me wrong: the fantasy does exist. It’s here, it’s real, and there will be times you’ll be so close you can almost touch it. But be ready to work, be ready to sacrifice, be ready to deal with the imminent frustrations.
Or learn how to hustle.
Read Next: Naughty Nomad’s Guide to New York by Mark Zolo
The post Allow Me to Introduce You to My New York appeared first on Matt Forney.