Thursday, October 1, 2009

two years...

I went. I saw. I won nothing.

The event itself was great. Awesome location, great prizes and DJ but there was a reason I didn't want to go and it was only solidified once I got there.

Two years ago today I boarded a plane alone. I had two suitcases, a backpack, a duffel bag, and an address of a 20-something girl living in the West Village in my hand. I lost the address and had to call her from La Guardia airport. I was feeling brave but won't lie, I was pretty terrified. I had no idea if this girl was going to be an axe murderer. I'd only spoken to her once on the phone - as we hammered out the agreement. I would sublet a room in her New York City apartment. I'd been working on getting to New York for months and here it was. I was going. By myself. I've said it ad nauseum but this was a big deal for me. I'm not plucky and I'm not fearless but I am determined as hell.

I got to the city and gave the cabbie the exact address - a blatant signal to my newbie status. Later, I'd come to know cross streets well. I got out of the cab to meet the girl who had pretty single-handedly changed my future and found her to be warm and friendly. Together we lugged my crap up six flights of stairs (hello, Manhattan!) I called my mother from my new (empty) bedroom and then we went to a pub down the street for dinner. She wouldn't let me pay for my $4 grilled cheese. She said I had plenty of time to pay New York's restaurant prices. This was the first in many small acts of kindness, unless you count the whole - you know - letting this stranger, a proverbial blue jean baby, come live with her.

Two years ago today I began what has become a relationship built on mutual respect. I respect the city, the unwritten rules, the pitfalls and the wonderment and in turn, I believe I have been respected. But last night, as I stood in the busy, pulsing atmosphere thinking "Shit, I should have made someone come with me." and feeling utterly stupid at being there solo, I felt what I have been feeling all week - alone.

Never before have I felt as free or as brave over the past two years. It has done wonders for my soul and courage. But I am tired of being alone, walking alone, experiencing alone. I know there is a reason I am, I know I have had lessons to learn. I've met some amazing (and some weird!) people along the way. And life continues... I just hope that by the time two more years have passed, I won't be flying solo, with two suitcases in tow, anymore.

3 comments:

Meg said...

Oh boo, that's a crappy feeling. I feel like I was you four years ago (I think that's our age difference, too) and that looking back I know EXACTLY how you're feeling right now. Hang in there. HUGS!

DSS said...

No matter how old I get, no matter how successful I am...I never like showing up at an event alone. I used to look around and see all of the "happy people" and immediately become "un-happy". Even though I was perfectly fine before hand!

Sure, now I have someone to show up with always, and it is nice. But you know what? It's scary too...

Just keep going to every event you can! Drag your friends along, but keep going. That is the best advice I have because that is what I did and it actually worked!

Sunshine In The City said...

Thanks for finding my blog! Yes I moved here in September of 2007 and my first apartment was in the West Village too!