It’s unclear exactly how many copies of “Fifty Shades of Grey” have been sold in New York, but it can’t be many. Who needs wild S&M fantasies when living here is already a daily humiliation? The city is pretty much the most unforgiving mistress there is, and you are her pathetic, submissive slave.

And you already live in an apartment the size of a gimp box.

Ever notice how when professional dominatrixes are interviewed, they always reveal that the vast majority of their clients are wealthy, powerful men? Of course they are. Only the rich have to pay to be humiliated. The rest of us get it for free on a daily basis.

Take riding the subway during rush hour. What is pressing up against a sweaty stranger’s armpit just so you can get home but complete submission? Someone with a whip couldn’t do it better.

It’s always striking when you go to other towns and cities and see how clean, pleasant and, most important, abundant public restrooms are. You may not know it, but there’s a Target bathroom in Virginia that you could happily live in. Here, you either pretend you’re buying something at Starbucks, or, as the city no doubt prefers, you hold it. Hold it until you burst. You like that pain, don’t you?

Why is every gym built with large windows opening onto the street if not to have passers-by stop and stare at you like you’re a large, sweaty zoo animal?

Why does your corner smell like that? Why does there always have to be 30 people in line behind you, watching, at the Duane Reade as you pay for that?

Why doesn’t that dressing-room curtain ever fully close? Why is everyone richer and more beautiful than you?

Why did a pigeon just do that on your shoulder?

Why did that girl reject me? Why did that guy? Why did that landlord?

Why is that crazy person yelling at me on the street?

Why did I pay $120 for a theater ticket to have the guy in front of me do that the whole night?

I’m left with how much after taxes?

Sorry, private party tonight.

Sorry, you’re not on the list.

Sorry, we won’t have a table until 10:30 tonight.

Thank you, New York. May I have another?

On second thought, maybe it’s just time to pack up and move to another state, like some 3 million ex-New Yorkers have done in the last two decades, according to the Empire Center for New York State Policy. Life would certainly be easier elsewhere, with plentiful cheap houses and top-notch public schools.

But maybe pay so much to live here because we’re all secretly masochists who crave punishment. Quick tip, though: An online search shows that just hiring a mistress would be cheaper.