If you’re anything like me, you will move to New York City. You’ll take a picture and post it on Instagram so everyone knows that you have officially moved to New York City. You’ll drink a large margarita with a friend to celebrate. And the sun will bask down on you and you’ll look at your friend and you’ll be happy because you live in New York City.
If you’re anything like me, you will stay with friends in Brooklyn. You won’t be there for more than two weeks. You’ll end up staying for two months. The room you’re in has no window. Your plans will change so many times until you finally sign a lease in Harlem. You will eat steak on the floor with your roommates on your first night there. There will be a fridge in your living room for two weeks.
If you’re anything like me, you will go to auditions. You’ll see too many people you know. You’ll see even more people you don’t know. Those people will judge you. And you will judge those people. You’ll sit in quiet waiting rooms and try to give off the vibe that you really don’t care if you get the job. You care.
If you’re anything like me, you will get a job at a small pizza place in the East Village. They will give you a shirt that is way too small. You’ll go to seedy, cash-only, gay bars with your twinky coworker from Sweden. Your boss will be crazy. She will accuse you of stealing wine. You’ll quit. Your friend will get you a job at his restaurant. You’ll wait on Topher Grace. You’ll spill soy sauce down the front of your white button down. You’ll make a lot of money.
If you’re anything like me, you will drink too much. You’ll dance with friends at Hells Kitchen gay bars. You’ll have “go-to” bars after work. A bartender will name your tab “two fags” and you’ll leave a one star yelp review and get him fired. You’ll go to speakeasies through hidden doors of Chinese restaurants where you sit on the floor and order twenty-two dollar cocktails. You will end up on a terrace in Hells Kitchen smoking weed with strangers. You’ll go on a rosé booze cruise on the Hudson where you tell everyone you’re a sommelier. You’ll get free bottle service at The High Line Ballroom cause you “know someone”. You’ll cut your shin open after drunkenly slipping on the street.
If you’re anything like me, work will become too much. You’ll leave the restaurant at 2 am. You’ll come back at 9 am. You won’t be able to go to auditions. You won’t be making as much money. You won’t be happy. You will go to a happy hour at a Tex Mex joint and get drunk and ask the manager if she’ll hire you. She will. You’ll quit your old job. You’ll wait on Jimmy Fallon. You’ll get numbers from boys. You’ll work with the best people. You’ll be so glad you found this job.
If you’re anything like me, you will go home for Christmas. Your sister will gift you a book entitled “Gay and Single Forever?”
If you’re anything like me, you will spend too much money at H&M. You’ll spend too much money on charcuterie boards. You’ll spend too much money picking up the check to impress a boy. You’ll spend too much money on nachos that are served in a baking pan the size of your torso. You’ll spend too much money on IKEA furniture. You’ll spend too much money on a trip to California because you’re young and you can and you’ll need the break. You’ll spend too much money on sweetgreen salads and sandwiches from your corner deli. You’ll spend too much money on a gym membership. You won’t go to the gym.
If you’re anything like me, you’ll work one temp job where you greet Meryl Streep as she walks in the door.
If you’re anything like me, you will take improv classes. You will see shows in a basement under a grocery store and you will strive to be in those shows. You will do your own shows in a basement under a bar. There will be no A/C. There will be four people in the audience. You will feel artistically fulfilled. You will feel challenged. You will feel happy. You won’t make any money.
If you’re anything like me, there will be boys. The guy that lives upstairs. The cute coworker with a boyfriend that loves to flirt with you. The hipster that makes you hole up in your room because you’re so sad that he cancelled. The guy that makes his own furniture. The actor who kisses you on the subway. That one guy who dated Jonathan Groff. The singer who’s never happy. The short guy who is leaving in two weeks. The guy you picked up at the bar.
If you’re anything like me, you will still be single.
If you’re anything like me, you will have anxiety for the first time in your life. You will go to therapy. Your therapist will be old and detached and kind of creepy. You will talk about the boys. You will talk about your family. You will talk about your past. You will still have anxiety.
If you’re anything like me, you will also go to Therapy. Therapy is the name of a gay bar.
If you’re anything like me, you will go see The Avett Brothers in concert at Madison Square Garden. You’ll take your crying friend home in a cab on his birthday. You’ll be on an empty subway car and put it on your Snapchat story. You will see tragedy in the world and really feel it for the first time in your life. You’ll read a book that will make you cry on the 1 train. You’ll use Tinder. And Bumble. And Grindr. You’ll ride the A train for two hours to Rockaway Beach and eat a whole bag of Doritos while getting sunburnt. And before you know it, you’ve spent a whole year in New York City.
If you’re anything like me, you’ll contemplate a sappy Facebook post to commemorate your year. Instead, you’ll go out with friends and wake up with a hickey on your neck.