Dear New York: It’s not you, it’s me.

Dearest Manhattan,

After months of fair-weather affections, a few too many situations that could be described as sexual harassment (how many is too many?), humid heat that almost choked me to death that one time, impossible sub-zero mornings, a constant state of cab rides full of motion sickness, forced subway rides and ridiculously overpriced everythings, I’ve decided to fulfill my personal manifest destiny.

That’s right New York, I’m breaking up with you. And despite the aforementioned issues (that, let’s face it, are not getting any better any time soon) I think you should know it’s not you, it’s me.

Over the past 15 months you’ve taken me on many-a-Central Park picnics, glorious afternoon strolls, we’ve built snowmen together and THE SHOPPING, oh god the shopping. I’ve loved almost all the restaurants we’ve been to and you know, I’ll always have a soft-spot in my heart for The Garden (from Britney Spears, to Phish, to Jay-z: from the Rodeo, to the Knicks and Rangers’ games; I loved them all).

Thanks for all the rainy afternoons perusing the MoMA, Whitney, et al. and thanks for not judging me for not really ‘getting’ all modern art and wanting to spend the majority of my time with the most cliché artists. I’ve appreciated you most whilst hosting my family and friends (Mom, Dad, Meg, Matt, Aims, Sofia and Becky) ever the effortless entertainer, you keep things classy, but not too classy, which is amusing.

For all of the delicious drinks we’ve shared; a special toast. It was with you that first fell in love with vodka and martini olives, and for this, I’m forever indebted. I could always count on you for the newest secret bar, the latest in tableside keg technology and the best Bloody Marys in the tri-state area. You always know how to keep the party going, what a double edged sword that was, eh? (And, if I may advise, in your next relationship, don’t rely on booze to make you beautiful, you’re pretty fabulous without the beer goggles too.)

Our last official date will be April 10th, meet me at 30 Rock, we’ll watch a taping of Saturday Night Live together. We’ll laugh, like we always do. It will be a once in a lifetime experience and I couldn’t think of someone I’d rather spend it with.

You’ll do your best to wine and dine me, making it nearly impossible to part ways without tears at the end of the night. I know you hate it when I cry, so don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be. San Francisco is no you, and ya know what? It never will be. But I left my heart in San Francisco and I never really got it back. So, all personal feelings aside, wish me luck? I sure could use your support on this one, ‘ole NYC.

I’ll be back with you soon, verily so. Cold turkey has never really been my thing, and you know that, you always have.

Love, Jenna

P.S. Enclosed are some of my favorite pictures of us, ain't no denying, we looked good together NY.