October 16, 2011
It’s midnight and I am riding the L train home to Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The new day is actually my birthday, the first I’ll celebrate after my move back to NYC from Washington, DC. Everything is fresh and new.
Well, the subway isn’t, but New York is home again and I am so happy.
I have just had dinner at Kittichai with two friends. Thai food is not my favorite but I am still in my enthusiastic-about-every-damn-thing phase post-move. I am also committed to saying YES to things, like event invitations and making new friends and accepting dates from just about anyone who asks.
Which is why when this good looking guy chatted me up on the train and asked for my number, I threw caution to the wind and gave it to him.
I think I asked him his age, feeling like he was younger than me. A lot younger really. But when he texted me, I agreed to go out with him.
When we met at the bar he chose, he let me pay for my own drink.
He took a bathroom break. While he was away, I mentally recalculated his age. When he arrived back reeking unmistakably of weed, I subtracted another two years and felt appalled that I was out with a man-child.
October 13, 2013
It is the day I will celebrate my birthday with my visiting parents. Before they arrive, I make a trip to my new favorite coffee shop near home. I started going there when the staff at Modca, my previous favorite, completely turned over.
I have placed my order – large iced skim latte, blueberry muffin – and am waiting when an attractive cafe employee in a newsboy cap smiles at me.
“Where do I know you from?” he asks while I smooth back my unwashed hair.
“From here maybe? I have been coming here a lot recently?” I said, answering his question with annoying question marks completing my statements. Who the hell am I right now?
He starts talking again but I’m not listening for I have realized that he is Very Young Subway Guy.
“Hmm I don’t know. Anyway, nice talking to you. Gotta go.”
I haven’t been there since. I can get to know the new staff at Modca, I suppose.