Point being: I can’t tell you how embarrassed I was to admit my recent development of, err … um … wanting a boyfriend. God, just typing that I feel like a loser. I’ve always gotten the impression that it’s not socially acceptable to desire such a thing in New York. A penthouse? Absolutely. A six-figure banking job? Definitely. Your own precious literary magazine? Yep. But a steady relationship? Nonononono DO NOT ADMIT WANTING ONE OF THOSE. That’s a WEAKNESS, and New York does not tolerate weakness. Weak people in New York get eaten, spit out, and then move to Jersey.