It's Times Like These, a Girl Could Use a Dog...

In a city of eight million people, how is it possible that I feel this alone?

Am I living my life in an M. Night Shyamalan movie? Does no one see or hear me because I'm actually dead? Because I'm an alien? Because it's actually the year 3092 and I'm living in a weird, Disney-theme-park-like version of the year 2007, just like in that teen fiction novel that Lili and I both read on vacation that one year when we were like 12 and that old M. Night totally ripped off in the making of the very dull "The Village?" (the name of which he also totally stole from my frequent musings on my hometown... Mr. S, I'm still waiting for my royalty check!)

There's a severe lack of human interaction in my days. My work involves staring silently at a computer for 16-18 hours a day, broken up only by conference calls, which generally revolve around meaningless questions that make no difference in my life or work, so I take the opportunity as an authorized chance to nap for 45 minutes, rather than participate. I am surrounded, 24/7, day in and day out, by this teeming mass of people, but there's no one, no one in this city who would notice if one day, I just weren't there. We don't see each other here, not as individuals. We see each other as competitors, jockeying for sidewalk space, subway seats, restaurant tables, rent-stabilized apartments, the last cranberry cheesecake muffin, and a million other vital or not so vital pieces of our lives. We don't know our neighbors (although we know if they have a better apartment.) We don't know our co-workers (although we're happy to spread any gossip we might overhear.)

I'm okay with that. New York has always been a city of strivers. Ambitious, scheming people come here to make their way in the world, from John Jacob Astor to Kermit the Frog, and by nature, that precludes a lot of what Midwesterners would consider "being nice." But how do you meet people in an environment like that? Where do friends come from, if there's no free time, no common gathering point, and no energy to go out of your way to engage others? Is this why they say New Yorkers are unfriendly? I don't really think we are. I think we're just overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the possibilities, the choices, and the sheer volume of people we face every day. How do you choose? Where do you start? And at the end of a long day, why risk spending time with new people you're not sure you'll like? I get precious little time to myself each day, and I know that a martini and a good book in my apartment will not let me down. The same can't be said for someone I met last week in a bar. Do I risk those few and fleeting moments to the chance that I might find someone whose company I just can't live without, or just selfishly grab that time and make the best of it on my own? Do I risk the ultimate high (having a fabulous time with a new friend), the ultimate low (wasting my free time sitting in a lame comedy club, not laughing, with some complete nutjob) or just meander along the comfortable path of a quiet night, a mixed drink, and an episode of Grey's Anatomy? It's a question to ponder... alone, in my few free minutes.