Vol. 1 No. 1
12. Nov. 2020. 3:08am
Dear New York,
Is it crazy to say that I miss you even though I am still here? Our love affair began two summers ago, and by the looks of it, I have two summers left with you. And it is already one of the biggest tragedies of my life.
The past several nights have been consumed with thoughts of saying goodbye to you. It will be another great love of my life lost. Do I do this to myself on purpose though? Am I only capable of falling in love when I know the love is hopeless and fleeting? When my love cannot sustain the love of me?
You say you love me by sneaking into my bed in the Upper West Side in the mornings. You say you love me by listening to all the fickleness of my heart as I walk along the Hudson. You say you love me by waiting for me in Long Island patiently to return every time that I run away from you. You say you love me by finding me at a dive bar in Midtown East when I am alone trying to lose myself again. You say you love me without ever having said it. I know you cannot say it, so I will never ask you to, but I know you do.
I know you cannot leave. And you know I cannot stay.
Still, can you love me like those two facts are lies? Can you find it in yourself to love me like we have forever and a day? Can you love me as if time has been on our side all along? Can we continue this love affair in perfect—false—bliss? Can we love each other like I had never loved him and you had never loved her before? Love me this little time we have left like the madman you truly are. Love me this little time we have left like we have endless mornings left together. Love me this little time we have left like you can spend the night with me and not have to go home and kiss goodnight other faces. Because two years seems like a lot of time, but we both know it will sneak up on us too quick. Love me like it is the most beautiful lie you ever told. Love me like a liar.
I do not know where life will take me after your love. You tell me it is Boston or D.C. that I am leaving you for. But the truth is this: I am not leaving you for anyone or because I want to… No, no one could ever compare. Sure, Boston was my first love, and D.C. my biggest crush, but you, New York, you are my greatest love. You have been, and will perhaps ever be, the only love to have never told me I am crazy or that I ruin everything I touch. Boston did that a lot, he broke my heart, as you know. D.C. and Houston, too. But you? You have always accepted me, nurtured me, taught me, and loved me without judgement, without haste. Even when I disappear, cry, go mad, or go silent, you have never not once told me I was crazy. Instead you celebrated my madness, said it was a tell to my genius—my future greatness. And for that, no one could ever compare. I will always come back to you, I promise.
I love you. That is all. I love you; I love you; I love you; I love you so.
You do not have to say it back ever, just promise me one thing? Keep sneaking into my bed in the mornings before I wake up, keep finding me at whole-in-the-wall dive bars with cheap whiskey shots, keep the reminder in your phone to check up on me in thirty years…
Thirty years. I promise I will come back to you before thirty years, even when I am all changed, and you are not. Because that is who you are, isn’t it? You are here for people like me. You are the kind of people that stays in the same spot your entire life, never moving, too stubborn, too family-oriented. And I am the kind of people that leaves beautiful people like you, never stopping, too stubborn, too curious, too heartbroken, with too many dreams.
So, shall we continue the greatest love affair that ever did exist? The forbidden affair between love, lust, and time. Yes, let’s have a balllll.
Always Yours,
The Other Woman
P.S. Wake me up with everything bagels Monday morning please—toasted with white American, fried (unpopped) eggs, fresh avocado, and lots of lox—just how I like it. 💋 XOXO
