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My First Date with New York City - Part 1 |
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Of course I have dated New York City many times since moving here in the mid 80s, though I’m no longer romantically involved with her. That’s because New York City, like Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany’s is everybody’s girl. She is a total adrenaline engine and the consummate ever untouchable party girl which masks a great deal of sadness I suspect. The scary thing is that in falling for her you can not only lose your heart but sometimes even your life. As for loving you back, well New York City would require years and years of psychoanalysis before that would be possible. The thing is, were this to happen she would no longer fascinate but instead become simply sweet and wholesome like Minneapolis. Although I’m no longer smitten with her as in the early days we have remained good friends and still get together, though less often. The separation has been good for me because I’ve needed the distance to preserve my sanity. And New York City - well, she is, as always, indifferent yet inviting; always bubbling with the manic, seductive giddiness that keeps her perpetually attractive. |
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All of this I’ve learned over the years but nothing can steal away the sweet enchantment of my first date with her. I was a young and blissfully ignorant new comer then and had arrived to establish myself as an abstract artist. At the time I was sharing a loft on the 10th floor of the Singer building in SoHo on Broadway near Prince Street. I had every newbie’s expectation of getting my fat slice of the Big Apple and with such an unquenchable romantic optimism I was ripe for slaughter on New York City’s altar of love. A couple of months after I arrived, New York City gave me a call one day asking if we could get together. ‘YES OF COURSE CERTAINLY!” I responded a bit too fast and loud. |
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