Milwaukee: Wisconsin's thriving metropolis

Astute geographical scholars can typically recognize 3 places in Wisconsin - Madison, Milwaukee and of course, the Dells. I happen to be living in the largest city in all of Wisconsin, ahem, Milwaukee (in case you still have no clue what region I'm speaking of, check out the big mitten near the Great Lakes). So I guess this makes me a legitimate city girl! Which is precisely the label I was seeking when looking for condos. How else would I put into practice and mirror what I had seen on Sex and the City (primarily seasons 2-4)? After calling off the wedding and letting the full weight of my bleak suburban existence take its toll, it was time for a change. Fortunately HBO had been playing re-runs of my 4 Sexy mentors so my decision was clear. Milwaukee, prepare to be dominated...for real this time. You see, I did live in Milwaukee when I was in college but I may as well have stayed home since that's where my boyfriend was. Yes, I was that girl. Home most weekends and a dismal college 'experience.' Still slightly bitter over this, at least it kept me from failing out of school and/or getting knocked up. Way to find the silver lining, where was I? So I grew up in the suburbs and have owned a couple houses in equally mundane neighborhoods, but now I'm back. Okay, not 'back' but it sounds more dramatic.


I didn't go quite the whole struggling writer in a crappy apartment route because frankly I was fortunate enough to not have to. So I bought a sick condo in a nice area and waited for the adventures to begin. Hmmm...you mean I actually have to leave said sick condo to find these adventures? This does not lend itself to my favorite activity of dormancy but I guess we've all got sacrifices to make. First goal was to find some friends. I know what you're thinking - wow, she really sounds like an anti-social loser and yes, I would agree, but my ex got to keep the friends in the break up. Small price to pay really. Unfortunately around the time I moved a few of my best friends decided to as well. The bastards just up and left the state, as if they didn't want to partake in my new Sexy adventures. So yes, I needed to find some new friends. How does one go about doing this when you don't have the benefit of structured activities? In school it's easy to meet people with similar interests simply because you've chosen the same classes and you may need them for notes or idle classroom chit chat. If I had a 'real' job, coworkers would have been another easy route. However, I pride myself on not being held down by The Man and have yet to find a job that fits my criteria - 3 day work week from the hours of 10am-3pm with a 2 hour lunch/shopping break. I'd also need a flexible vacation schedule, full benefits and I'm told at least a 6-figure income to support my lifestyle, but that's another story. How about hobbies? If naps and reading count then I've got some, but these are typically solo activities. Without my own personal set of dysfunctional, misguided, overly dramatic girlfriends I knew my whole Sex and the City episode might be a bit lackluster. Ultimately my trick was to contact old friends, make them introduce me to their friends then become the new friend burglar. Hence, multiple circles of people to choose from - mission accomplished!


There's a few more glaring instances where my Sex and the City experience falls apart. For starters, I'm in Milwaukee. Where the hell are my black-tie gala events? Of course NY is far more exciting, but I figured there would be a little more going on than drunken outdoor summer festivals. Seriously, how am I suppose to rub elbows with socialites, blossoming artists and captains of industry while drinking out of a plastic cup? I live in a very convenient area. I'm within walking distance of the lake, nice restaurants and bars, boutiques and markets. Yeah for me? No, yeah for everyone else who ventures to the city for a night out then insists my condo equates a Motel 6. I'm all for house guests, but don't call me after bar time because you need a place to crash and then puke all over my lobby or kitchen sink. As imagined, this bothers me for 2 particular reasons-one, the smell of puke makes me want to heave until I pass out and I'd rather sell my place than clean it up. And two, you live in a crappy little town 30 minutes away and I will never be crashing at your place. Where's the win in this for me? I also do not have a home conducive for such elite activities as beer pong or flip cup. I'm not opposed to these college exercises, but I have grown-up possessions now. Such possessions include: wood floors, white furniture, a mortgage and elderly hostile neighbors. It's one thing to have beer splattering all over your basement floor or linoleum kitchen, but I no longer have access to either of these. I can't have renegade beer soaked ping pong balls whizzing around my Waterford crystal and paintings. Does this make me anal and out of touch with my fellow 20-something year olds? Probably. Would I rather have nice things to worry about than the approval of my 20-something year old friends who live in their mother's basements? Absolutely.

Then there's my dogs. I used to have a yard big enough to necessitate an invisible fence. (For awhile I actually thought this was an accomplishment of sorts.) I traded this electric luxury for 3 flights of stairs and a tiny grassy knoll next to the road that my dogs refuse to set foot on. Never a big fan of responsible dog ownership (ie. walking them) I find myself begrudgingly heading toward the lake to deter their frantic furniture leaping episodes. This is all well and good, having access to the lush green fields near the lake, but I'd much prefer opening the patio door and letting them find their own adventures. No one wants a chaperon after all, right?


Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love living here. There is no place I'd rather be, but I forgot to add bitching as one of my hobbies. The benefits of my new zip code? I can watch fireworks from my balcony during the summer months; I never have to worry about parking or driving home from the bars, in fact taking horse drawn carriages home are one of my favorite perks; watching people dig their cars out during the winter from my window with a cup of coffee in the morning or watching people attempt to parallel park, subsequently bumping both cars around them as if this is an acceptable form of driving; feeling like you're doing something even if you're still in your pj's because there's always someone hustling from one place to the next and their enthusiasm is contagious; and finally, nothing beats the view from my balcony at sunset. Makes me thankful every time I see it to be living here. So maybe my Sex and the City experience has not quite lived up to my season 2 expectations, but I'm getting there. Got the whole tortured writer scenario down, didn't I?