When most people go on vacation, they treat themselves somewhere exotic or relaxing. They go somewhere with friends, family or their significant other. And in most cases, they don't book an earlier flight home because they can't wait for their vacation to end.

For quite some time, I've wanted to return to the Big Apple to see if I'd eventually want to move back and give it another chance. So when a boy invited me to visit over Valentine's Day, it certainly got the ball rolling.

Without a doubt or worry in my mind, I booked a nine-day Valentine's trip to that crazy place. Although I had some measly spending money, I knew I'd still enjoy myself. Why? I was about to experience a romantic week of being wined and dined in the city by a man who we'll call Mr. Manhattan.

However, sometimes we make the mistake of believing what we want to.

Mr. Manhattan was saying things like, "If you lived in New York, I'd propose to you in a second" and "I'd pay for half your flight, but I should save money to buy you a ring."

Of course I wasn't expecting a proposal. Ick. But I obviously didn't think he was being overly flirtatious and only that. I mean, he told me to come over Valentine's Day and stay at his place. He told he couldn't wait. But this was all via text. That was my first mistake.

Three weeks prior to my Denver departure, the fantasy romance ended. I got the phone call filled with the classic cop outs:

"I just want to make sure we're on the same page here."

"You know I like you, but ..."

"I don't want there to be any expectations when you visit."

"I don't want to do anything to jeopardize our friendship."

Basically everything they tell you in He's Just Not That Into You is what Mr. Manhattan spilled that night. It immediately occurred to me that the only two people fantasizing about falling in love in NYC were myself and I.

Surprisingly, after a post-phone call bath, a glass of wine and a reality check, I was OK with it. I wasn't going to back out of a planned vacation. I wanted to see all my friends, explore the city, find coffee shops to write in and do some soul searching while everyone was at work.

Fast forward to early Saturday morning.

My roommate woke me up 10 minutes before I had to leave. Little did I know I was about to embark on the trip from hell. Maybe she could have done me a favor and let me sleep through my flight.

When I finally arrived to Mr. Manhattan's apartment that I once couch-surfed at for weeks, I couldn't get in. There I was - starving, thirsty, hungry, freezing and struggling to get into a building I still had keys to. At the peak of my panic, I realized I was using the wrong key. Idiot.

After lugging my 45-pound suitcase up three flights of narrow stairs and facing falling to my death three times, I arrived to find no one home, no hand soap, no toilet paper, no hand towels and a fridge stocked with only Coors Light. I forgot that I had once lived with all boys.

Thanks to a few cold brews and a much-needed shower, I was off to meet a friend who now lives in Chinatown. Although she basically lives in a closet with her boyfriend for $1,400 a month, it's adorably decorated and welcoming - once you get inside.

We hit numerous bars, got our dance on and had a hilarious photo shoot in an empty cement park. However, in this park, someone apparently once discovered a suitcase filled with a woman's body parts. Great. (Mom, dad ... you probably didn't need to know that detail.)

On Sunday, I attempted to go shopping on Fifth Avenue. Hmmm ... that wasn't very exciting. After getting lost on the sixth floor of Macy's, I maxed out my $50 gift card with two pairs of clearance earrings. I guess Macy's in Denver is nothing like the one in NYC. I bought one shirt at Forever 21 and trudged back in the snow.

That night, I suffered from violent food poisoning. I guess that's what you get when there's one place open during the Chinese New Year in Chinatown. So for the rest of the night, I locked myself in one of the boys' bathrooms back at Mr. Manhattan's apartment as every sound echoed throughout their narrow, hardwood-floor-only space while everyone attempted to sleep.

As I recovered the next day, I attempted to watch some movies and rest away my embarrassment. Well, not one of my movie selections played without skipping.

The next three days were filled with snow, extreme wind gusts, rain, sleet and slush. In fact, one of the afternoons had all of it at once.

Each morning I'd wake up with the hopes that maybe one afternoon would be OK for visiting the top of the Empire State Building. I told myself I wouldn't go on Valentine's Day - but to my luck, that was my only choice. I had one more day left to explore, and this was the one.

The line was surprisingly fast and the people working were extremely friendly. Those are two things you rarely get in Manhattan.

I approached an unexpected photo session where people were posing in front of a green screen. As each group and couple took their photos, I realized I was the only one by myself.

So I held my head high and planned to pose with a smile that screamed, "Yes I'm alone and I'm loving it." Well, one of the cameramen decided to make a big deal about it and said we should act like we're together in the photo. As I grinned and put my arm around that man who was practically half my size, everyone laughed.

Ironically, it was the highlight of my day. But little did I know what I was about to encounter at the top. When I made it to the 86th floor, I was taken away by how gorgeous and peaceful the view was. And as everyone spotted me as the vulnerable single gal who had nothing better to do but to snap photos of everyone else, I stumbled upon my favorite sight ever.

No - not the Chrysler Building or an incredibly attractive single man or the view of the Statue of Liberty - but pigeons. Yes, pigeons. They were so content with their spot at the top. They weren't scurrying around and head-bobbing with each step like usual. They were just chillin' like they owned the spot. I asked a man to take a photo of me with them.

He was probably thinking, "This poor woman has no one to pose with but this group of rats with wings."

I was thinking, "This is awesome. I could hang out up here all day."

Following my excursion with the birds, I brought some Valentine's sweets to the gals at BUST magazine and was quickly brought back to when I interned in that cluttered, awesome office.

Then, a massive craving for pizza set in. When I found the perfect sit-down place in Union Square, my newspaper and I were happily seated. I thought that by eating an early dinner, I was safe from the wrath of happy couples on their dates. I mean - no one in NYC eats till after 8 p.m.

Nope. I was the only one all alone. Again.

When my pizza arrived, I was excited to see that it was heart-shaped.

"Excuse me, sir, but are everyone's pizzas like this tonight?"

The waiter responded, "Yes, ma'am. Bon appetit."

"Well, that's cool. I'm going to take a picture!" I said.

The waiter gave me a strange look and said, "Do you want me to take a picture of you with your pizza?"

"Ummm ... no thanks," I said.

The waiter later brought me a rose.

Now - I would be lying if I said none of this trip was enjoyable. Of course dinner and wine outings with friends were great and the open mic night in the East Village was entertaining as can be.

And even though my little heart suffered some breakage prior to the trip, I still managed to find myself a date on Valentine's night. Bar hopping in Brooklyn with a friend of a friend was all I needed.

Overall, the trip was totally not what I expected. I mean, I even got stuck in Chicago all day on my way back home. I guess that's what you get when you wuss out and book an earlier flight home.

Yes, there were more downs than ups, but it made me appreciate my life in Denver more than ever. Sometimes leaving makes you realize what exactly you're taking for granted back home. And us folks in Colorado have it good, indeed.