“Oh, New York City? I could never go there…”
I’ve heard that four five times now. Closely followed by various rounds of how fast–paced the city is. How dangerous the city is. How big or crowded or loud or whatever the city is.
Honestly? I couldn’t go there either.
For my entire life, it’s never been appealing. It’s never been The Dream. It’s been too fast-paced. It’s been too dangerous. It really has been big and crowded and loud and whatever.
And yet, somewhere in the past few months, a part of me suggested…
“Maybe you could.”
Could that be true? Could this dangerous and big and crowded and loud beast of a city have taken my heart?
I think – maybe – it already has. Like so many business people before me. Like so many artists. Like so many adventurers and entrepreneurs and lovers and sinners and fighters and dreamers. Like 8.3 million people before me, New York has certainly captured my attention.
So today, I take to the Internet to admit a feeling I never thought would escape my lips. Or fingers. I did something unexpected. I did something insane.
I fell for New York.
No, not the black and red feelings emblazoned on t-shirts across the world, loud and proud and cliché as all get out. I fell slowly. I developed a crush.
My crush on New York began as I fell out of love with Burlington, Vermont.
It wasn’t a sudden painful break-up, the kind that incites novels and poetry and shocking slaps on soap operas playing in hospital waiting rooms. It wasn’t even a dramatic falling out. It was the kind of break-up where two souls (er – one and a ginger) sadly realize that they have outgrown each other. It began slowly; the piping hot nuances of “the honeymoon period” began to fade. It went from an adventure to a comfort, the spiciness only present in recollections of moments past.
The love was still there, but it wasn’t enough to keep it afloat. It was the safety. The comfort. The love without the lust.
Then New York appeared. Beautiful and big and mysterious. Sexy and romantic. Full of potential. The strings keeping any other relationships together couldn’t live up to it. They snapped. This was the city that you lose yourself in. This was it. The go big or go home kind of guy.
After all, doesn’t everyone need that one relationship? The kind that will give you the best nights of your life, and then the worst? The kind that will keep you up all night, talking and laughing and understanding what it’s like to live – to really live – only to leave you sobbing on a curb, questioning your every life choice?
I know New York will break my heart. I know he sleeps around. I know he won’t call back. But by this point, it’s too late. I’m invested. I’m crushing. I’m head over heels in love.
The cautious girlfriends, the wise relatives, they warn me…
“It’s fast paced, it’s dangerous. It’s big and crowded and loud and whatever.”
“It’ll break your heart.”
It’s too late. I’m diving in. I’m in love.