Don't even act like you aren't proud of the more than 43,000 hits your site has received since that original blog went up. You're loving that. The more people that see your site, the better. That's how a blog site survives. Disinterest is like strychnine for a blog, whether that disinterest comes from the writer or the reader. Click bait? Of course it was click bait. Why did you take the whole thing down though? Were you actually ashamed of the words your blogger wrote? Doubtful. As for the offensive and misogynistic comments, why not just either remove the offending comments or close the ability to comment altogether. Sprinkle a little HTML pixie dust and sha-blam! The ability to troll has disappeared.
But no, you, like Jenn, chose to take your ball (or in your case your blog entry) and go home, stopping only to waggle your finger at your target before throwing your nose up with a "humph!" That would make Olive Oyl of Popeye fame proud. What's the matter L.P., you can't take some negative feedback when you publish something that in itself is a not-so-cleverly disguised troll of its own?
Oh, and Jenn, the nice guy in me—and by the way, I own zero bow ties—would love to show you some of that diversity and subculture that you apparently couldn't shake out of the bushes around here. I fear it's too late, though. Enjoy Atlanta. I hear the Coca-Cola Museum is really rad the fifth time you go through...that is if you can get through the traffic. God forbid it snows.
The blog post that started it all:
"Southern Charm-less: A City Girl’s Take on Life in Charleston"
I moved to Charleston six months ago from Atlanta and quickly learned this was not the town for me.
It’s funny because I’d been here so many times to visit and was so taken by this city that I was actually completely surprised by my own distaste for it. Like a gorgeous girl who turns out to be a real “see you next Tuesday,” a lot of the things I thought I loved about Charleston were not what they appeared.
If you’re a House of Cards fan, and caught up on this season, you can remember the scene where they pan over the faces of folks waiting in line for Frank’s job plan. If you haven’t watched, the point of the scene is that America is made of many different faces. We are different colors. We come from every race and creed. We believe in different Gods. We eat different foods. Some of us are tattooed. We wear unique clothes, come from various places, and have all sorts of hairstyles. WE ARE DIFFERENT. To me, this is what makes us beautiful.
You know what isn’t like that? Charleston.
Oh sure, they toss a brunette into the mix every now again, but for the most part, this is a city filled with sameness. I’ll give it to them; the people here, they are stunning. But, as we Southerners like to say, LAWD, Y’ALL! They look the same, they dress the same, they believe the same (or a close variety of the same) they eat the same foods and drink the same drinks. Everywhere I look, SAME. SAME. SAME.
I LONG for diversity.
In addition, I made a dire error when reading about the demographics of the city. When it said 100,000 people, I didn’t realize I’d move from a city of 7 million people in Atlanta to 100,000 residents scattered about historic Charleston and multiple islands.
WHAT WAS I THINKING?
I feel like Charleston is primarily comprised of lifers — I’m sorry, but being born and raised in Mt. Pleasant is not an accolade – with a smattering of college kids and Junior League military wives. It, with its lack of corporations, is missing that bracket of creative 30-40 year-old professionals who said “marriage and kids can wait while I do me for a minute.” It’s also in dire need of ANY kind of subculture.
Even the hipsters here are boring.
The (Lack Of) Things To Do
I used to believe “If you’re bored then you’re boring.” Then I moved to a small, sleepy town where there is actually nothing to do. Yes, yes, the beach. The beach is amazing and wonderful. I cannot go to the beach every day. Yes, yes, Downtown. Downtown is amazing and wonderful. I can’t go out and party like I’m in college every night. I’ve already tired of these things, so what to do now? I could take a boat to a fort. Go for a walk on a bridge? Visit one of our two museums? Wait for all of the tourists to show up and sit in traffic to go to the grocery store? I choose moving.
I also can’t blame this entirely on Charleston. There were days when I was bored of Atlanta, but within an hour’s drive could be in the mountains, a few more to the beach. Here, an hour away is another town just like Charleston. Or Columbia. Let’s not even go there. I pretty much think now we were wrong in our decision to not let South Carolina leave the Union.
How do people sustain themselves here? I guess they have kids. But what about the rest of us who never made “wife” an end goal?
People here don’t even like to leave their own island, never mind posses a sense of adventure to get out of Dodge for a bit. But they sure do like going out on a boat. Every. Single. Weekend.
If one more person tells me how awesome the food here is, I will go Postal. Ok, not really as I’m not a going Postal sort of girl, but there will definitely be an exaggerated eye roll. Don’t get me wrong. There are great places to eat here. They’re just the sort of places where you have to spend a lot of money and have a sit down. Everything else is either BBQ or covered in some kind of gravy.
I love Southern Food. Like everything else here, I don’t like it when it’s my ONLY OPTION. Forget ethnic cuisine. We have one Asian market 30 minutes away. Forget being healthy. Everything is fried. And the pizza? Well, I’m sorry but Antico ruined all of our lives and nowhere but Italy can ever compare again.
A new restaurant pops up here every week, it’s just the same as all those who popped up before it. The food here is average. I like to say it’s a B+ in a C town. I think that’s more than fair. I need the people here to stop touting the mediocre.
Part of this is my fault. I am 34. By society’s rules, WAYYYYYY too old to be dating. I’m just not ready to settle down yet and I know that I will face unique challenges for taking the path less traveled. That said, I lived in Atlanta for 12 years and was single for like, 15 minutes.
I heard there would be beards and boys who like Panic and fishing and camping. I assumed this meant like myself. Still into the hippie culture, but functioning, successful adults. What I got was a bunch of unmotivated beach bum burnouts who want to work in Food and Bev until they’re 50. Or, I could hit up one of the bars in Mt. P and score a super vanilla dude in pastel pants and bow ties. Perhaps I could respond to one of the Marines on Tinder hitting me up for a threesome.
Never in my life have I actually feared dying alone. It would most assuredly happen to me in Charleston.
Listen, I get it. It takes all types. And these (plain white) faces are just as important as all the others I talked about earlier. The sorts of people who make Charleston their forever home do so because they fit here. I wish for all people to find that.
The thing that Charleston has taught me most is the value of home. The value of finding humans who are like you (or in my case, not like Charleston citizens) and taking the time to get to know them. It’s taught me that stepping outside of your comfort zone will shake you to your core, but you’ll come out the other side so happy where you landed. Which for me, is back in the A.
Jenn Ciccarelli, Northern transplant and Marketing enthusiast, is currently living in Charleston but not for long. She and her three dogs will soon be making their way back to the big city of Atlanta. When she’s not busy with work, you can probably find her in the woods, in a river, with a fly rod. Or at the bar with her friends, whiskey in hand. Hobbies include writing, thinking too much, eating great food and avoiding the gym, and traveling to weird faraway places.
Editor’s note – an update from the author
I’m decidedly unclear how so many of you could be offended by the opinion of a stranger, but you’ve made some incorrect assumptions about me that we need to clear up.
I’m 34 and unmarried by choice. This close-minded thinking that something must be wrong with me for making choices that are dissimilar to yours is PRECISELY why I an leaving Charleston. If you all choose the same path, excellent. For those of us who decided to make our own, well, sorry that offends your delicate sensibilities.
I’m the happiest person I know. In fact, it wasn’t until moving to Charleston that I was ever unhappy anywhere. I wanted to try out a new place, it wasn’t for me; now I’m returning home to friends and family and the city I love. Bless my heart indeed. Why do YOU care if I don’t like where you live? Oh right, because Charleston is so boring there’s nothing else to do.
I’m sorry, y’all, but your comments read like children saying “FINE, WE DON’T WANT TO PLAY WITH YOU EITHER.” The good riddance and #byefelicia is right back atcha."