Yes, it’s true, I don’t have an mp3 player. This is not really by choice, I must admit—my iPod broke a couple months ago and the so-called “Geniuses” at my local Apple store told me that the cost of fixing it would be (shockingly) the same as buying a new one. It really bothers me that Apple’s products (and most gadgets these days) are basically designed to break after about a year, thus forcing you to buy a new one, so I simply refused. I went iPod-less.

I love reading, so I figured my morning commutes would be fine. Think of all the books I could get through! I might finally plow through that stack of New Yorkers under my bed! As for walking around, I’d be better off—less likely to get hit by a bus while crossing the street and not paying attention, less likely to get targeted for mugging, less likely to run into a glass door (yes, this has actually happened to me).

Who am I kidding? Read More »

Perhaps it’s the sheer volume of people on one concrete island, or that the people are actually more attractive and put-together. Maybe more of the residents are chemically altered more often throughout the day here. Whichever the case may be, New Yorkers are not at all shy about their catcalls, or “hollas,” if you will.

Granted, I’m from the Midwest. I completely missed out on this whole experience during my teen years. Back home, it’s mostly the sketchy old men in bars hitting on you, or, once you’ve ventured to the undergrad lifestyle, the halfway-to-blackout frat boys who think perhaps their forwardness will reward them with a piece of ass. Too often, ladies, we have caved, be it for lack of self-respect or just for fun. Hey, I’m not judging. Sometimes you just need to hook up.

Some women have never learned how to take a compliment or think anything positive about themselves, I beg those women to come to New York. It’s guarantee that of the eight million people, someone finds you attractive. Read More »

Nothing ruins my morning quite like hearing a leering stranger mutter his commentary on my appearance under this breath. If you’re a woman who’s ever walked a block or two in a city, you can probably relate.

Trading stories of street harassment with friends, I learned that it doesn’t stop at lewd mumbled comments. I have friends who have been flashed on the street, and even treated to a one-man self-pleasure show while riding the subway. Read More »