Life in New York: Three months

I had been in New York three months and I was failing at life.

After some deep and serious self-reflection, I had decided that my short experiment with polyamory came from the wrong place- rather than a desire to be open and honest with all my partners, I wanted to have my cake, and eat it, too. I realized I was not cut out for juggling multiple relationships, and that I was using polyamory as a blanket to engage in my desires, without considering the ethical repercussions of it. While I should have ceased this behavior, I didn’t. I was being the most callous and selfish I had ever been in my life, and I blamed it all on the move, that I was going through a lot of emotions. Really, it was my lack of regard for others’ feelings, and inability to feel love for more than one person, while I was juggling these multiple relationships.

Several weeks earlier, I experienced my first New York heartbreak, and consequently fled to San Francisco. After a tumultuous 10 days there with my San Francisco boyfriend, I returned to New York and tumbled right back into the home of the New York man whom I so adored, while my other New York lover, fed up with my indecision and lack of consideration for him, stopped seeing me. He said something particularly concerning to me: I think what you want, and what you think you want are actually two different things. And maybe you’ll reconcile that in the future. It was a haunting insight into my persona, one that deeply resonated with me, and I sought the truth in his statement in the coming days.

All the while, I was sort of loafing around, picking up the job hunt again, doing some writing, and wondering if I was cut out for expat life. I was certainly facing more challenges than I anticipated with the emotional challenges of living away from home, and wondered if I hadn’t bitten off more than I could chew with this international move.

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