…and no, this has nothing to do with that weird framily plan Sprint commercial with the hamster dad.

 You’ve had a rough morning. The L train was stuffed to the gills as usual, but it was also delayed (arguably, as usual). And the guy who you are intimately, unintentionally, vertically spooning is breathing heavily on your left ear as you avert all eye contact and attempt to hold your balance while the woman behind you lodges her purse, let’s face it, up your ass. You run through the unexpected rain that has magically appeared while you were underground for twenty minutes and you show up to your office fifteen minutes late when you planned it all out to be ten minutes early. Sweet. Your dick of a boss notices and rolls her eyes and sighs with disapproval. It’s Tuesday. Great start to your fucking day right?

new york city streets
 So what is the first thing we do when we have mornings like this? Well, first things first, we jump on gchat and bitch of course. It’s one of our favorites pastimes as over-entitled millennials, right? But the question is to whom do we bitch? For many of us, New York City is not where we grew up. Home base is a train or a plane away. Our parents don’t understand what it’s like living here as much or as often as they may phone us for every detail. They don’t know the annoyance that spews from our bodies when a taxi driver doesn’t know where they’re going (Jesus, you have a GPS!). They don’t know what it means to us when the G train just, inexplicably, isn’t running. Our friends in other cities dotted across the nation don’t get it either. There is something quintessentially wonderful and mundane about NYC that puts this city in a category of its own. It gets real out there, with mountains of trash, herds of beautiful people, and overpriced, well, everything.

new york city skyline

So who do we turn to? We turn to our friends. Or to most of us in this masochistic behemoth of a living situation, our lifelines. Having good friends in this city is an integral part of enjoying, and most importantly, surviving life in a metropolis that seems to chew up and spit out thousands of beady-eyed concrete-jungle-where-dreams-are-made-of individuals on a monthly basis. When your relationship falls through and you are left in pieces, it’s your friends who remind you that you don’t even need that forgettable asshole. If you’re making questionable life decisions, they are the ones who call you out on your bullshit. Friends are what keep you sane here. Friends are who you vent to, and dump all of your problems on (they reciprocate, so it’s okay). It’s the individuals you let into your life while living here that keep you going — they’re the ones who remind you why you came here in the first place. They are the sliver of sanity in what sometimes seems like a not so sane place.


I guess what I’m trying to say here is that your friends are a very real extension of family in New York City. They ground you, understand you, and humor you. They play therapist, become your support group, your framily. Without them, you probably wouldn’t be okay. Sometimes it’s good to remember how amazing these individuals are. We tend to take friendship for granted. Put them on the backburner for a new hookup or a networking opportunity to get ahead. It’s easy to become selfish here. We all want our own individual success, but keep everything in perspective. You could very likely have not stayed if it weren’t for these individuals. Appreciate them. Love them. Remember the love that lives between them and you and rediscover how special that bond is. So the next time you wake up and have to Google Maps where you are, keep in mind those special people who you text first and will take your fuck ups and make you laugh at yourself. Those relationships are the ones worth keeping around.

friends in new york

[images sourced via Rowhouser.com, Followpics.co, alisoncherrybooks.com, Gadling.com & Tumblr]