Living the dream (verb); a hipsters definition of becoming an alcoholic

Before I start blabbing on, I’ll introduce myself. Let me be upfront in saying that I wasn’t born a city girl. I grew up in Southwest Virginia in a small rural town of just 7,000 people, a country girl at heart. I’ve moved around since then and have lived abroad in Germany and France. I explored the southwestern United States while going to school and living in Phoenix, AZ.

Now that I’ve explained my life story, let’s get to the point. I moved to NYC just over a year ago and have been living in Bushwick, aka hipsterland. As a young woman, guys have always hit on me, wherever I lived, just like they hit on most anything that moves. However, here in the big apple, it’s a whole new ball game.

I’m a modern dancer. Of course this isn’t how I pay my ridiculously high rent, no, to do that I’m a nanny. Living the dream as some might say, but mostly just trying to do what I love and afford to live simultaneously. Dance is always a subject of much confusion when I reveal to guys that that’s what I love. “What is modern dance exactly?” and “Are you a stripper?” are probably the two most common questions of forced conversation.

I like to go out and have a good time, just like the next person, maybe even more than the next person. I mean, who moves to NYC and is all, “I want to stay in for a nice cup of tea on this lovely Saturday night”? That being said, drinking and getting hit on, generally go hand in hand. You do get the occasional train flirtation, or daytime weirdo, but the bulk of unasked for attention happens in a bar setting, while alcohol is flowing.

I had a friend staying with me after I had been living in Bushwick for about 9 months. The friend in question is beautiful, a model. She came home one day and asked me if it was normal to get accosted, whistled or hollered at and just generally annoyed on the way to the train. Yes, was my immediate response.

Although usually annoying, it can also be hilarious, which is why I have chosen to share my stories with you.


About 25shotsandcounting

My name is Sylvia. I’m a 22 year old girl living in NYC. For reasons I wish I knew, I get hit on a lot. I don’t think it’s because I’m particularly more attractive, funnier or even more intelligent than other girls. I’m convinced that it’s some kind of weird aura that only men can sense. An invisible sign that says, “Well hi there, I’m open for business.” Ironically, I’m usually not. The idea for this blog came about while I was dating a bartender in Williamsburg. I would go his bar and have several drinks by myself while waiting for him to get off work. Like clockwork, it was usually only a matter of time before I had a parade of guys come and talk to me. So much so that it became a running joke between my boyfriend at the time and all of his co-workers, just betting how long it would take before I had my next victim. Sometimes flattering, sometimes annoying, other times like some sort of scientific curiosity, the unelicited attention became enough of a pattern to notice and, free drinks aside, generally dread. I seem to be a magnet for awkward pick up attempts, which sometimes lead to misadventures of one kind or another. I know this is a common phenomenon for young women in NYC, but I figured, why not write about it.
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