The Bad Boy, The Boss, The Unattainable, The Father Figure, The Text-Book-Perfect Boyfriend; you name the type and I’ve fallen for him. Trouble is, I fall out of love as quickly as I fall in love and whilst I’ve often done OK with the boys, I have found myself single on the verge of 30 and not even close to finding “the one”. I’m in a place where all my close friends are married, kids already here or on the way and for the ones who haven’t said I do, it’s on their 12 month radar. “You’re too fussy”, “You always go for the wrong guy” and “Aren’t you worried you’ll end up alone” are the three most common lines I hear from my loved-up mates along with a look of pity and ‘I’m glad I’m not in her shoes’ eyes. If I reject a semi-cute, nice guy who has a job (apparently the perfect catch) because I’m not feeling anything for him (which happens to be an important factor in finding love, I would have thought) I am greeted with a ‘your time is running out’ glare and ‘your looks will start to fade; you better nab someone while you can’ frown. And then there are those talks you’re made to hear after too many “overnight romances”. Balancing the ‘not too slutty Sabrina’ and the ‘not too fussy Sabrina’ can be a tough act let me tell you. You must be thinking, ‘wow this girl has some bitchy friends’, but I assure you, it’s all done out of love and they just want me to have the happiness they have. But with all their loving advice and words of wisdom to steer me in the right direction, I still manage to fall for the wrong guy or go back to the wrong guy. I either get the ones who are too interested (trust me there’s such a thing) with no butterflies or excitement in the air or I’m falling head over and they’re not even looking twice. So what do you do when you’re 29, over the city you’re living in, the emotionless sex, seeing the same guys walk in and out, and running out of friends to drag off the couch on a Saturday night? Uh, you move to New York City of course! I have decided to channel my inner Carrie Bradshaw and uproot my life to the city that never sleeps, where it’s okay to be single at 30 (in fact it’s expected) and your biological clock ticks away without any notice or disapproving eyes! Goodbye to the same old clubs, same old crowds, waiting around for ‘the one’ to find me, listening to Adele while fantasising about the day he comes running back and binge-eating on a Sunday (actually I’ll keep the Sunday binging thanks). Hello New York, new chapter with no boundaries, no limits, fresh meat and fresh eyes. It’s a great feeling of freedom moving to a city where no one knows you; you can do whatever and be who ever you chose to be. Better still, no one has to know how or where you end up in the morning. Watch this space!