An island silhouette. — The Social Experience
It's late into the night. The cats are curled up in chairs fast asleep, or as asleep as cats get anyways always with one eye open. The husband is asleep, breathing deeply and dreaming dreams of his wife being an ax murderer. I am awake, drinking wine and quietly typing on my laptop, a dim yellow light behind me the only light on in our clean spacious apartment. It's a blessing and a curse I suppose, of being a natural night owl and also unemployed. On the one hand my mind is most creative and relaxed in the night, I write more easily, I feel more at peace, the darkness and silence a familiar and preferred companion. On the other hand it makes me lethargic during the day, puts my schedule out of step with Adam's, and easily threatens to become habit.
But tonight I'm feeling a bit nostalgic. I began creating a list of places I want to be sure to visit on my upcoming trip to NYC. Favorite bars and restaurants, shops and coffee houses, places that made New York home to me. It's been a while since I've been back so I had to dig deep to make a good list and as such opened a flood gate of memories and I started missing NYC. Though New York to me was rarely ever about the big city and the bright lights or bars or shops or places to eat. For me it was mostly about my friends and our experiences together. The places that we went, the staples over the years, they were simply the walls the housed our antics and laughter. That's what made NYC so special.
One of the things I miss most of all is Adam's old band, Brompton's Cocktail. The first time I ever saw Adam he was on stage tuning his guitar, moments later I was falling hard for him as he bellowed out Brompton's Cocktail songs. Hell, I named my cat after one of their songs. I miss their weekly weekend gigs wherein all the girls would dress up and all our friends would flock to whichever shitty dive bar Brompton's was playing in and we'd dance and drink and I would swoon for my tall thin singer/guitarist boyfriend (later husband) and after the gig was over we'd bar hop late into the night and then stumble home and have drunk sex at 4am.
I miss all the parties we'd throw or attend, the stupid stories that were told like broken records ("and then there was that time that Greg..." yeah yeah), the noise complaints by neighbors, chain smoking on the fire escape. Rooftop BBQs during the day that turned into rooftop parties at night. I miss the awesomely romantic early years of my relationship with Adam. I miss being young and scared but covering it up with intimidation and confidence. I miss my best friend and how when we lived together we'd lay on her bed and talk about our relationships and friends and work. We'd borrow each other's clothes and drink coffee while listening to Morphine in the mornings. I miss how she always smelled like Vanilla. I miss my large group of friends and how they felt like family.
I miss the weekends our friend Todd who lived in Pennsylvania would come stay with us (usually on Brompton's Cocktail gig weekends). We'd get stoned and sit on the floor and play video games and watch bad movies. We'd go to bars and have ridiculous conversations like the realistic Barbie line we were going to create (HIV positive Barbie - comes with her own dirty needle, domestic abuse Barbie - comes with a black eye and you pull her cord and she says, "I fell down the stairs"). I miss Adam's cat John and how when Adam moved in with our friend John we'd have to differentiate the two Johns by saying "John the cat" or "John the drummer". I miss going to Adam's apartment and listening to our friend John play the piano in the basement. I miss movie nights with my girlfriends. We always drank too much wine and talked through the movies. To this day I'd swear I haven't seen some of the movies we supposedly watched. I miss horror movie nights with my friend Chris, we'd order Chinese food and get drunk and heckle the movie. He's the one that ignited my love for Italian horror and slow 70's shockers. I miss our friend Ethan and how when he lived a few blocks from our apartment he used to come over and not leave. We would literally just go to bed, leaving him in the living room and telling him to just lock up when he left. I miss our friend Jen and how you could tell how drunk she was by how thick her Boston accent got.
And I miss our friend Charlie, and how when I first met him I thought he was the most brilliant crazy person I'd ever met. The worst part is that even in going back nothing is the same. Most everyone is married, some have kids, some moved to New Jersey, some have moved clear across the country and even clear across the world. It will never be how it once was and it breaks my heart to see those years so far behind me now. Those years of my life that every experience I had, every person I knew, shaped and molded the woman I was becoming. It will be lovely to go back for a visit (albeit a very brief one), but it will be like standing in the shadow of someone who has long since passed away.
Mr. Space wrote:
I only had kids because I knew you and Adam were moving away and leaving me all alone!
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