Quite enough words of love have been said. Words like whales that beached themselves in Breezy Point and dried to death and withered.
Love is passe in NY. NY of all cities has come up with all the possible semi-means to satisfy human beings’ most basic need ; the need to love and be loved.
If we need to be touched we go to a Chinese (sic! Susy Q!) massage salon. For close to nothing we’re being touched tenderly on all the sweet spots at once without the need of commitment, that’s like a dessert wine; lingers on for too long and makes the head too heavy.
If we need company we go to a sports bar and stare at a tv screen together with dozens of insignificant others who need company and do not feel like watching the major soccer game alone. If we need to talk we might as well strike a conversation and talk to a stranger about the most personal/ (slash) intimate shit; imagining that we are actually making a connection.
If we get extremely lonely on say a February (yes; these are the least bearable) Friday night we can try to hit on one of the plenty exes via a text message, WhatsApp or fb; hoping that something might happen. We might even go as far as showing up where we think (/slash; we know) we can find them hoping that it might get us somewhere; hoping that the old chemistry hasn’t worn out.
If it indeed hasn’t and if “something” indeed does happen we can not return phone calls or messages for a couple of days upon excuses of being busy at work, having misplaced our communication devices or (yes, why not?) having been arrested.
My most beLOVED Babylon; you are teaching me to be less and less judgmental and I (heart) you truly, but I guess we’re all coming from where we’re coming from so; I’m happy to be taking a break from you for a couple of non-bullshit weeks RIGHT NOW. Amen.