Don't Call it a Comeback (Even though it is)

I'd say I can't remember the last time I posted, but that would be a lie since these damn editorials are time stamped, but I think you get the idea - it's been a while. My life since my last post has been, well probably as good as anyone could ask for. I moved into an awesome one-bedroom apartment living by myself for the first time. Living alone has been a revelation, who knew how much cleaner, productive, and at peace I could be just by getting rid of roommates (no I didn't murder them, more like misplaced). There hasn't been much time to be lonely though since living solo in an apartment has come with an abundance of hookups that I have not seen since that dream I had in tenth grade where I dated all the hottest girls in the school in quick succession. But this isn't a dream, and frankly it's not dating either. Sure I've gone on dates, but a majority of my encounters have involved a bar, a twelve-pack, or an apology. Hell, some of them involved all three. Accompanying these experiences have been a variety of comical situations, from getting thrown out of a still moving cab at 3am by a coworker (he decided for me that I needed to meet up with the girl texting me), to being thrown into a cab at 4am by a girl who said "we might as well bang at this point anyways" to being thrown into a room and ordered to remove my clothes by the time this particular girl returned from the restroom (couldn't quite manage to get my socks off). Damn, there was even the time my CFO cock-blocked me when I accidentally picked up the phone very much in the middle of something (and someone). Have I regretted any of these? No. Honestly, I've actually liked every girl I've been with in some way or another. My dilemma, and it's an admittedly selfish one, is that I want all of them and none of them at the same time, but never just one of them. New York makes these situations way too easy to fall into, there's so many goddamned bars, so many people just wanting to go out without thinking about tomorrow, what it all means. People say New Yorkers are miserable; I disagree. I think we all just live in the moment. So while others may fall back on happy times when nothing's going on, when others have stability, New Yorkers shoot from misery to elation and it roughly follows the hours of the day from the mornings and days spent alone wondering why that other someone hasn't called you back, to the early evenings when you're surrounded by friends and thought prohibiting substances, to where you've cast aside all inhibitions and will literally bang the next person you talk to. The morning will come though and you'll know for sure that the person lying naked next to you is not the one you've been waiting for because this is New York, and in New York there's always somebody better.