new york, my love, my oppressor

as most of you know, i was a psychology major in college. so forgive me if this post is a little too psych-nerd for the mainstream. but i think some of you might agree with the point i'm about to make.

it occurred to me today that my love for new york - which, if i haven't made clear, is as boundless as the sea at the end of the gooey, grey hudson river - is kind of like stockholm syndrome, the phenomenon of hostages falling in love with their captors. because i am inarticulate and, some might argue, borderline retarded, i'll just post the wikipedia definition here and you'll see what i mean.

The Stockholm syndrome is a psychological response of a hostage, or an individual in a hostage-like situation (e.g. dependent child, battered wife, etc.), in which the more powerful person (a) has the power to put the individual's life in danger or at least the power to harm the individual, and (b) occasionally exercises this power in order to show that he or she is able to use it if the victim will not conform to the more powerful person's will. The main symptom of the syndrome is the individual's seeming loyalty to the more powerful person in spite of the danger (or at least risk) in which they are placed as a result of this loyalty.

sound familiar? every day, you drag yourself out of the shoebox of an apartment that you live in and for which you pay more than your life is worth; you rub up against total strangers (often smelly) as you cram your body into a sardine can of a subway car on your way to work, all so that you can slave all day in service of someone whom you, on a very fundamental level, hate with every fiber of your being, in order to afford the astronomically overpriced apartment that you love so much. and then, when it all comes down to it, you stare new york in the dirty, smelly, smoky face, and glow with unchecked adoration for the beast that bends you over the table and has its way with you every single day. you go home for thanskgiving and boast to friends and relatives about how much you love The City, about how it's the most exciting place in the world and you miss it already: the bright lights; the men in suits; the $15 cocktails; the beautiful people; the random, fanny-packed kentucky families; the "model scouts" in times square who are willing to get you started for a simple, one-time cash payment of $60 (upfront, of course); and the complete lack of foliage anywhere outside of The Park. as carrie bradshaw said, "it's easy for me to say, 'i love you, new york'."