Boston is a city known for its history, sports, and die-hard loyalty to tradition. But one thing I can’t get behind? The women here. There’s an air of entitlement that seems to radiate from many of them, as if they’ve collectively decided that they are leagues above anyone who dares to acknowledge their presence.

Walking through the streets of Boston, you can see it in the way they carry themselves—heads held high, eyes forward, as if acknowledging another human being would somehow diminish their worth. There’s a coldness, an attitude that screams, “You could never have me, so don’t even try.” It’s not confidence—it’s ego, and there’s a fine line between the two.

The level of self-importance is off the charts. A casual hello? Ignored. Holding a door open? Barely a nod of acknowledgment. And let’s not even talk about dating—good luck finding someone here who doesn’t think they deserve a Wall Street salary, an athlete’s body, and a Nobel Prize winner’s intellect all wrapped into one. The expectations are sky-high, yet the personality often doesn’t match the price tag.

Of course, not every woman in Boston falls into this category, but the overwhelming attitude here makes interactions feel like an uphill battle. There’s a difference between being independent and being outright dismissive, and too many here lean toward the latter.

Boston may be a city rich in culture and achievement, but when it comes to genuine, down-to-earth connections, it’s one of the coldest places I’ve experienced. And that’s why, when it comes to the women here, I’ll pass.