FOMO |fo · mo| noun
a condition in which the victim experiences a fear of missing out, ie, he or she can’t be happy doing nothing
For a long time, Lynsey could not spend a Friday night at home because she had a severe case of FOMO.
After moving to NYC (ok, Hoboken) in 2007, I experienced a severe case of FOMO. I attributed it to living so close to the city—never again would I have to endure local NJTransit train rides to meet up with friends on a Saturday night, only to have to be plagued with the decision between calling it a night early to race back to Penn Station, or ordering another vodka soda and crashing on a friend’s futon. (Or catching the last train out for the night, falling asleep, and missing my stop.) Everything finally felt within reach and I no longer had to live life according to the NJ Coastline schedule.
But looking back, I can see that my FOMO was a special case. Instead of fearing that I’d miss out on social festivities, it was a fear of missing out on NYC. On days I didn’t have active plans, I would fret if I wasn’t out, hitting the pavement to explore a new neighborhood in Manhattan.
Cut to 5 years later, living on the other side of the city, and I find my FOMO easing up. Could it be that I’m almost 29 (!) and my party pooper tendencies are starting to sprout like little gray hairs I’ve also started to find? OR, does it have something to do with the fact that Manhattan and I have reached a place of comfort—we know that neither one of us isn’t going to die if we go a day without being together.
It might also have to do with Astoria being a pretty rad place to live…