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Tuesday, November 22, 2005 

Unrequited

Are you in love? Does the object of your affection NOT reciprocate? Or worse, does not even know you exist? I feel your pain. My love for NYC is unrequited.

I have been in love with New York City since the first time I visited there - relatively recently - in 1998. Laurie and Eduardo had just moved there from Mexico City a few months before. They'd moved out of his company's housing into a (massive) apartment they'd bought on Hudson St. in Hoboken. The view from their living room was lower Manhattan at its most seductive: the river, the Twin Towers, the lights.

Everyday, I'd walk to the Path station with my pass that Laurie had bought me and take the short ride to the World Trade Center stop. I'd get out of the station and just start walking in random directions. I'd get lost, but not care. I was finally in New York. What took me so long?

On each subsequent trip, I'd opted to get a hotel room in Manhattan so I could be enveloped by the City at all times.

When Eduardo's company moved them to London, it worked out that Regina moved to Manhattan - Washington Heights - from San Francisco around the same time. I loved visiting her there. I loved that everyone assumed I was Dominican and was surprised that I don't speak (very much) Spanish. What I didn't love was the trek up to 189th & Broadway. That's far when you're spending a lot of time downtown!

I was a theatre major in college. I went to college in Los Angeles. Not exactly the place for theatre. Friends asked why I didn't go to school in New York. I was afraid. Afraid of being so far from my friends and family, afraid of the big city, everything. I just stayed on the West Coast. I think that was probably one of the biggest mistakes I've made. I missed out on so much of the City, that I feel like I need to make up for lost time. Last year, I went to New York six times. Really. It's gotten ridiculous. I keep thinking I should just move there, but god, it's the other side of the country. I don't know anyone, I don't know where I'd stay, where I'd work. Maybe I'm just being cowardly.

Is it wrong to be in love with a city? Is it weird? I get the same butterflies in my stomach when I'm on the plane, and I know I'll see it soon. I love New York.

But sometimes I cheat on it with Paris. Shhhhh.

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