One of the things I have always struggled with, basically since high school and perhaps earlier, is my inability to stay home, alone. I dont know what it is – my therapist says it’s anxiety, avoidance and denial. I’m sure she’s onto something.

Whatever the cause, while living in NYC I found it completely impossible to spend a night at home, even on those rare occasions when I truly had intentions of doing just that.

Inevitably, a friend would text, asking where I was. (Not asking IF I was out, but WHERE – my friends know me very well). And after a brief resistance (“I’m so tired, I think I’m going to lay low tonight”), I would find myself pulling my hells and skinny jeans out of the closet, promising to meet said friend for “like an hour.” Next thing I know, it’s 2 am and I’m at The Spotted Pig, Bounce or Toy. Naturally.

And there were many other nights when I just spent hours strolling aimlessly around the West Village and Tribeca, with no destination, simply enjoying passing other like-minded Manhattanites also out enjoying the fresh air and incomparably energy. Even if I was out taking a midnight walk by myself, I never felt alone.

And this is what I loved,and will always love, the most about NYC. There was always something going on, someone to go do it with and some of my most fun nights out happened on those same evenings when I had promised myself that I would just stay home, take a bath and read. But even on those nights when I wandered around solo, being surrounded by millions of other people at any given time was all I needed.

What I love most about Las Vegas, so far, is that – even though I don’t know a fraction of the people I know in NYC – it has the same energy. Earlier this week, after a long day in the office and no evening plans, I found myself sitting in my apartment, starting to panic about how I was going to fill the next 5 pre-bedtime hours. Of course, I know a handful of people and am making friends here in my new hometown but I still don’t have an endless list of people to text or call on a whim to meet up with, like I did in NYC.

Alone in my dark, empty apartment – I still have no furniture or lighting – I started feeling lonely and slightly homesick.

But instead of falling into am inescapable K-hole, I laced up my sneakers and walked to the Strip. There I was, walking amongst hundreds of strangers. And while I didn’t know a single one of them, and didn’t have a single conversation, suddenly I didn’t feel so alone.