Sex and the City - I Wish I Could Say I Was Having Some

Nov 27, 2007 - 19:52 PM PST

I moved to NYC 8 months ago, and I hate it. The weird thing is, ever since my first visit when I was 16 years old, I thought NYC was the city for me. I always thought I would live here at some point... I even yearned for it in my most romantic moods. When I met my husband Andrew at Warner Bros. in Los Angeles, and found out he was from NY, it was like chimes rang, whistles blew, horns... honked. What an awesome thing to have found a soul mate that could also whisk me away to my favorite city at least once a year. Even if we had to stay with his crazy Jewish family on Long Island, at least Manhattan was just a short, fabulous jaunt away.

But life is a strange puzzle of bliss and tragedy that chooses the strangest times to have its jagged pieces fit together. What brought me to NYC was not my love of the city, but instead, was an unimaginable tragedy... I'm talking "Ripped from the Headlines - Law and Order" shit. My mother-in-law was stabbed to death, and then dismembered by a neighbor's son, who only lived two doors down. He was caught the next day, with her head still in the trunk of his car. It's unspeakable, incomprehensible, bizarre, nightmarish, and above all else, just plain sad. The killer was just sentenced to 30 years- which is a crime in itself. How can someone get life for kidnapping or even tax evasion, yet someone who cuts an innocent woman to pieces and carries her head around as a trophy only gets 30 years? It's a fucking joke.

So many lives have been forever altered by this atrocity. It's not just about feeling robbed of safety, security, and a loved one... something like this rips apart EVERY fiber of your relationship. Every tender thread of insecurity, mistrust, anger is severed instead of being strengthened. My husband began to question my loyalty, my love, my strength, my devotion. He snapped at me, called me names, blamed me for the smallest injustices, and then shut down completely. So in an effort to comfort his pain and ease his suffering, I agreed to move to NYC to be closer to his family. We arrived March 1st in 20 degree weather, and if I could have, I would have taken the first flight back to L.A. Back to my friends, back to my writers' group, back to my condo, back to the traffic and the smog and my therapist and the skinny bitches that never eat. But instead, I took the harder road. I've stayed, and tried to put my marriage back together. Some days are great... just like the old days. Some... not so much.

So here I am, in the greatest city in the world, the city that thousands of woman think of as the place of endless sex, cosmos, fashion experimentations and voice overs that perfectly encapsulate each epiphany in our little lives. It's not Sex and the Cityfor me, in fact, I just wish I could have sex in the city. Or in the apartment. Or in the elevator. Or wherever! See, that's the other thing that tragedies steal... sex drive. Talk about a crime. Talk about a raw deal. Talk about really wanting revenge and an eye for an eye! Screw the needle or the chair for this asshole. Cut of the killer's balls instead! Then he may feel the most minute amount of the pain he's caused my family.

But it would be kinda satisfying.