The average rental rate for a studio in Manhattan is now $2,000 a month, and it’s probably a good barometer of the great economy we’re in that so many can afford such ridiculous prices. I was born in the borough, but by the time I left I had sworn never to live in an apartment in Manhattan again — and it wasn’t because of the high rents.

My last apartment was a two-bedroom in a high-rise on the East River, for which we paid $237 a month. Before that, it was a one-bedroom on West 71st Street, right off Central Park, which cost us only $165 a month. This was in the 1970s, before the city sold out the struggling poor to rich developers, who were given tax breaks. When the single-room occupancy buildings were sold and torn down, the homeless became a new category of residents. And let’s not forget the state and local government cuts that tossed mental patients out on the streets to join the now-homeless working poor.

There has always been snobbery from Manhattanites about the “bridge and tunnel crowd” — those living in the other boroughs. As a young, single woman, I was living in a project, but at least it was in Manhattan, so I risked less disdain from the preppy crowd as long as I described it as living on the Upper East Side. What a sap I was, buying into that shallowness!

This attitude still exists but is less rational. Back then, at least, living costs in Manhattan were more reasonable and one could always rent or sublet a rent-controlled apartment by bribing the superintendent or paying a bonus to the departing renter. Those options no longer exist, so what we have now are renters paying premium rents for substandard residences, just for the privilege of saying, “I live in Manhattan.”

After the windfall bonuses received by Wall Street traders last Christmas, apartments are being snapped up by the lucky employees. Also, Europeans are taking advantage of the devalued dollar by buying the overpriced condos and co-ops.

Unless they have started building soundproofed apartments in the “city,” as residents of other boroughs refer to Manhattan, I can’t understand these purchases. When I think of all my sleepless nights due to parties in the upstairs apartment, the piano in the next apartment placed right next to my bedroom wall, the garbage truck pickups at 3 a.m., and patrons noisily exiting their favorite bar at closing time, I can only imagine how bad it is now that smokers are forced to spend much more time chatting outside.

Back in the 1970s, only Brooklyn Heights had as much cachet as Manhattan; it was actually a lot like Manhattan but with the benefit of a great view — of Manhattan. Queens should have been the piece de resistance for living because it has the greatest view of the Manhattan skyline, but the snobbery against it still exists.

It wasn’t until I moved to the forgotten borough — Staten Island — that I even recognized how poorly the other four boroughs are covered by the mainstream press. The gossip mavens rarely leave the confines of the Manhattan scene, and the characters they dote on have become more jaded, hedonistic, and much less interesting.

On my way to the ferry last week, I passed an “open house” sign on a new building on Bay Street offering luxury condos. Out of curiosity I took a tour, and I was impressed by the high quality of the apartments: They offered two full baths, a washer/ dryer, granite countertops in the kitchen, and a balcony facing the waterfront. The condos were quite lovely, but nothing I could afford, even though the prices ranged between $489,000 for a one-bedroom and $700,000-plus for the penthouse. Yet when I looked for comparable real estate in Manhattan, the prices were in the millions.

If I were a Wall Streeter, I could walk to the free ferry for a lovely ride, wave to the Statue of Liberty, then walk to a home where I could actually own and keep a car (condo owners have their own parking spaces). If I had millions to spend, I could buy a mansion on Staten Island instead of a measly two-bedroom in TriBeCa. Of course, the downside is that it’s not Manhattan, it’s Staten Island, where $2,000 a month will rent you a house.

There’s a point where a shorter commute to work just isn’t worth the high cost of living in the city. Manhattan has become a nice place to visit, but I’m glad I don’t live there anymore.