Two young actors in front of me speak about their new shows as I sip my coffee and I let my back muscles that are aching, get massaged by the cold air conditioning above me as I sit in the corner of this child painted hut of a coffee shop. There is a painting of the twin towers and a flag with an American eagle, gardens and dolphins lining the colorful walls. The mellow music of the cafe calms me in this artist’s neighborhood of Brooklyn.
The coffee is 3 dollars and the clients dress in designer jeans that only look like they are owned by a runaway.
Peaceful but at a high price and I know that underneath my relaxation, being here after awhile like anything else in too large of a quantity is a bad thing. I wish we could figure that out with people. Or perhaps it doesn’t work that way with people. Maybe there is no such thing as getting too much of someone.
I look at all the cute boys that stand on this continent that I won’t be dating in the month I am here. I like that I can romanticize them and yet stay far away enough from being the reality of disappointment and life. They are eye candy and the limitless possibilities of sleeping with them and having their children and dumping them pass over me and my imagination in a minute in the time before they can extend their hands to say hello. I have already humped and dumped them. Don’t men do this too?
The man in front of me with his slight facial hair and gut and love sick eyes that smile for the actress that just stepped up and walked away …well, he will never know that I have already imagined sleeping with him, marrying him, but…not leaving him…i have already decided in a matter of seconds that he’s the kind of man to marry and stay with forever without any goodbyes. I am certain it’s not just the mellow music giving me this impression.
The business men on Wall street are a different story. They walk too fast and take little time to really speak. I pass them in the street and with the stunning ones I have already bedded but not wedded a single one. Rather I have dumped and been dumped a million times over before they have even walked past me in line for lunch.
So I am in New York. What’s more fun than having a fling in a city where no one will know the wiser? Unfortunately for me, the elements I need are not in place. The men who have proposed are wildly “successful” but money frightens me.
As a great mentor once said to me, “You can’t love money or hate it if you want it.” I am afraid of it and yet I need it of course. This reminds me of the same dilemma I have with love.
Well I bid you so long Hipsters of Brooklyn and men of New York. Especially the beautiful Jewish men who line the city.