I get a similar reaction every time I tell someone who’s never lived in Manhattan that I currently live in Manhattan. Something along the lines of – Wow. Good for you! I don’t think I could have done that when I was your age. You’re probably so responsible! And very good at sticking to a budget, I bet!

I nod and smile and say thank you and oh sure you could have done it when you were my age and yep, sure am.

It should be clear from past posts that I love Manhattan more than most. Wouldn’t (currently) trade it for the world. But the absolute truth of the matter, in reaction to all those reactions, is that it’s not that good for me. You could have done it better when you were my age. I’ve actually become less responsible since arriving here. And I’ve never once stuck to a budget.

In reverse order:

You can’t stick to a budget in Manhattan. It’s impossible. Daily X Factors force one to shift priorities, and then money has to be re-allocated/found. I spend money on four things per month: rent, food, alcohol, life needs (toiletries/clothes). I approach each month with the goal of making it to the end having paid my rent, eaten enough, drank reasonably, dressed well, and not run out of contact lenses/Swiffer Wet Jet pads. If I’m planning a trip home to raid my parent’s kitchen of tuna fish, peanut butter, and kashi breakfast bars, I spend a little more money on any one of the above. If that’s budgeting, then I’m doing it. Excel spread sheets and that little booklet that comes with my checks are beyond me.

Responsible is hard to define. I go to work, work hard and am accountable for my person. I wash my dishes, replace the toilet paper and keep in touch with the important people in my life. Sometimes I enhance myself by reading books or giving change to the homeless. But “indulgent” is one of my defining characteristics making the lure of this city’s 24-hour availability like cryptonite. I’m not good at saying “no” to weeknight drinks, cute shoes, and additional committees. I also walk home alone really late at night sometimes. So chances are I’d work out more, drink less, save money, and be safer in suburbia. I’m not irresponsible here, I’m just not as responsible as I could/should/would be somewhere else.

Regarding the New York of the baby boomers’ 20’s – it was cheaper, easier to get a job, and from what I’m told, a lot cooler. Apparently your chances of being mugged or killed were higher, but you could afford a way bigger apartment so you’d likely spend less time outside potentially getting mugged or killed.

I’m hesitant to declare a blanket, “it’s not that good for me.” Good is relative, vague, and likely takes more than 3 years to assess. Is it good for my life-savings, no. Is it good for my perspective on reality, whoa no. See the problem is that things that fall into the good column remain wholly intangible. Career prospects, experience potential, character development. All things that, so far, have yet to really come to fruition (read: have no promise of happening). Yes, I’m progressing, learning, meeting people, and experiencing things I couldn’t anywhere else. But whether I’m a saint or a lunatic for focusing on the promise versus the delivery remains TBD. Is there a shelf-life on “this city just feels right”? Ask me in three to five years. For now I’m holding out for what Old Blue Eyes promises. That if I can make it here, I can make it anywhere.

To Do: determine meaning of “make it here.”