Dear New York, I Don’t Need Your Validation

21 Mar Dear New York, I Don’t Need Your Validation

I love this city, I hate it sometimes, too. In an effort to keep track of my feelings about the Big Apple during my time here I try my best to chronicle them in a letter to this crazy place. Welcome to Dear New York–a series posted monthly on the anniversary of the date I moved here. 

So, New York,

We’ve been a thing for over a year now, which, is a pretty big deal. I understand  that we’re getting to know each other, we’re still learning, figuring out how to love to the other one, I get it. This is new. But we need to talk.

While this has been fun and I love all the ways your introducing new things and people into my life, all-around upgrading my existence, there is just one thing, I think I’d be good without…

The running commentary from dudes on the street. I’m generally a pretty friendly person, you know this about me NY, but I don’t want the men I see on a semi-regular basis to take my big smile and easy-going conversation as flirting.

It’s not.

You’re not special, everyone gets that.

You, dude who drives the 9:17am M79 bus that I see just about every morning, don’t blow me kisses, it’s weird and I don’t like it. It was cute when you called me your highness (he know’s what’s up) but you’re taking it too far.

And you, Daryl who stands outside of the Verizon store on 30th, I don’t need you to tell me that you’re watching my figure, when you ask me what I’m having for lunch and I answer salad. I don’t want you to wink at me when as you tell me I wear my blue suede shoes well. He addresses me by name–incorrectly, might I add, calling me Shannon– I let him open the door for me once when my hands were full with coffee, and has earned the title of my ‘corner boyfriend’ from my co-workers.

But guess what, New York. I don’t want any corner boyfriends. And certainly not any clearly middle-aged men who think this is appropriate behavior–I don’t need your validation. If you absolutely must speak, men of New York, take a note from the guys who make my Aegean salad at Fresh & Co dang near everyday.

“Hey, number nine, no tomatoes, how are you?”

p.s. This is not to say that all men in New York participate in street harassment. To be honest, most men are very respectful in the way that they approach me. Though I have gotten a few YERRP!s (and in 2014, at that), these two particular gentleman made me feel icky on the same day.