The Valued New Yorker

Once upon a time, in a far far land of Manhattan- there lived two guys who happened to meet in a borough called the Bronx. There was a charity function for the neighborhood kids, in which the writer brought gifts for the children of his parent’s neighborhood. His friend, Shane had secretly set him up on a date- while he was hosting the charity event- it was destined to be the worst date ever. But on the contrary- it was actually the best, while handing out Baby Alive dolls and Transformers, his journalistic instincts allowed him to find out that the boy was in school for Law and Public Relations, had a wealthy track record, no exterior anger problems, and his parents weren’t up for discussion- but the writer didn’t mind this part, neither were his.

One charity, fifty-seven dinners, thirty-seven movies, sixteen corn dogs, and a trillion make-out sessions later. Fast forward six years to the present, Ron and Isaac has endured countless obstacles from people not accepted them for their individuality, to finding themselves in the world and in one another, as well as losing the one person they assumed would be around forever. To finding the love that was lost once before.

They continue to swear a future some day will come; all the rest of my friends and I can do nothing else but nod our heads in agreement.

There are countless New Yorkers that go through the same debacle.

They got into a relationship, fell in love, relished in the essence of having a boyfriend- a magnificent lover, then got tired of having one all in the same instant.

But it was a remarkable difference for this pair, it always almost like they love each other- completely adores one another, they were both single, they had all the volatile parts that would make a relationship- the support included… I don’t think I was the only one who questioned with Ron, what was he waiting for?  


If You Love Something, Let It Go?

Sure, That Has To Be Right.


Brown Moschino mittens and the warmest scarf to match, with a hankering for Froyo like I was in my second trimester of my third pregnancy- I tagged along on a friend’s outing to Frozen Peaks. Shane, an eccentric gay guy that could always make someone smile when they were down in the dumps. Taraji, a sue chef that worked on pier 52, or pier 45- who knew. And in an attempt to cheer up my friend from his recent off again relationship, I decided to bring Ron along for the frozen goodness.

It wasn’t long before the boys and I were lounging over a plastic white unstable rotary table, eating from four cups of froyo, listening to Ron pour his heart out more than a Mocha-chino yogurt dispenser.

“He told me to wait! I waited, I did my waiting. He wanted to be a lawyer, so I waited! Six whole fucking years!” He practically yelled all through the franchise. Taraji looked around, a tad embarrassed I’m sure.

“It wasn’t like that, Ron. You were in school too-”

“Welp, if you weren’t happy, why did you stick around?” Shane asked, he was the type to get rid of a boy for the simplest of reasons if a guy slammed a door in Shane’s house, he automatically had to go. His biggest pet peeve was someone ‘disrespecting’ him. God forbid the man left his clothes laying around, Shane would probably have him arrested, on some mythical grounds.

“Well, at first- I didn’t… Stick around, that is, I had a guy, but, I don’t know.”

“A guy? You had one guy and you thought you were going to get over him?” I asked, taking a spoonful of Pomegranate Tarte to my lips. “Even I don’t think it works that way. What do they say? Put yourself out there.”

“I missed him too much, he was everywhere, I changed my room a thousand times… His smell was everywhere. I-” Ron couldn’t continue, his eyes began to rekindle their whole relationship in the span of two seconds, Taraji spoke up for his friend, promptly and supportive.

“He stayed because he loved him, why do we all stick around when stuff like that happens?” Taraji paused, he cocked his head to the side. “Six years, that’s half of a milestone.”

“Six years of the best love I have ever experienced.”


Power Rangers, Assemble


On a much colder date in the city of New York, there seemed to be a hidden admittance or a confession for that matter.

Jeremiah, the paramedic- had received news that the boy he was in love with, was in fact, in love with another. Another common case in New York.

“This is a sign! It is the similar circumstances, oh my god. He is in love with someone else, that’s why we haven’t gotten back together.” Ron yelled.

“You’re annoying.” Shane chuckled. “He’s probably just caught up with school work, he is trying to become a lawyer, that does take a lot of concentration.”

“Was that your way of telling me I’m a distraction?” Ron gasped lightly, taking the chuckle from Shane.

“That’s exactly what I am trying to say. He has a lot on his plate, just give him some time.” I didn’t want to say what we all had been thinking, how much time was he still willing to give? I mean, if 2,190 days wasn’t enough time to give a guy when exactly is the day you say, I’m done? Day 2,191? Or day 2,225?

“Hello, I called you on Facetime to discuss my problems!” Jeremiah boomed from the other side of the iPhone call; and I had to admit, I was fresh out of advice, I wish we were in the early 2000s, where the phones were hooked up to some telephone jack- so I could just yank on the cord and not have to continue the conversation- good thing he continued rambling. “I don’t know how I allowed him to do this to me again… Why did I allow myself to be so open for this again?”

“Because you were stupid,” Shane retorted, and it took everything in me to keep my face straight, not only for Jeremiah sake but also Ron’s. “You guys let men control your life and make you all messed up in the head, like now.”

“Shane is just upset his man acting up, he taking it out on everyone,” Taraji explained, “Nothing is wrong with having your heart open to love. Maybe… Maybe you thought he was going to promise you a life he wasn’t able to give you, fully. Doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. Neither of you. You are both still young, and so is the millennium- if you are meant to be, your day will come.” Taraji preached, and I nodded my head.

“Couldn’t have said it any better myself.”


But We Still Love Them


Yes, we say that we can live without them, even with us being them.


But really… Can we?

But most importantly, men we have completely given our heart to.

It is not only inevitable- it is almost prophesied, there is always a fifty- fifty chance when dealing with exes or the people you thought you had a close relation with- the bond probably wasn’t reflected the same on both ends.  

“You even been on the six train on 125th street in the morning? Horrible, they need a better system.” My grandmother was always complaining about something, part of her complaining was also shedding insight on areas that didn’t seem obvious to the public’s eye. The elderly really did have this sixth sense for any wariness in a person or community. “There was this young girl running for the train, I tell you she was kicking speed, grandson-son. And the man closed the doors on her, right as she got there. But something went wrong so he had to open them back- Child, she jumped halfway in and the doors started closing again- some man helped her with one door, but the other prick watched it all, I wanted to punch him.”

All this time I’m kind of questioning in my head why she didn’t think to grab the other door for the girl to slide in, but I knew the 6 train was ALWAYS crowded in the morning- there was probably no space for her to help.

“Another man put his baby down and helped the girl in before the conductor went off with the train! Thank god he came, that other guy was an A-hole.”

“Yeah, Nane. He was.”


Some questions may be setting in your head at this moment, as in why I chose this conversation with my grandmother out of any other?

Well, her words captivated me, that train became more than just a tin vessel it became reality. Weren’t we all just initially leaping around with these guys, taking one train from here, to there- seeing where the destination will take us, hoping we don’t miss our stop.

Then there’s the case where we leap on this train- placing all faith in one jump to grant safe passage; then BAM- the doors begin to close, and you’re stuck with a choice- push forward or jump back.

If you choose to push forward and need encouragement, just think of what my grandmother said, as one door was keeping her in a bind and there was no one willing to help- suddenly, there was.

Trust me- the outcome of thinking about all of this will leave a sour taste in your mouth- now forcing you to question your very actions in present day tense- Should I text him today? Will he text me back? Is this worth it? You will check his Instagram, Snapchat, and Facebook to see his less attentive hours, just to gratify a time slot of your own.

But with all the questions that are storming your head, I have one revelation of my own for you. There will come a time where you are stuck between two doors, fighting to get on a train, your face slammed up against the cold door panel- one man seeing your struggle and witnessing your agony- he might even have the shade of empathy embarked on his face; trust and believe, just like that jerk on the 6 train, he will watch you get crushed.

Needn’t worry, though. As studies show, where one man fails, another will prevail.


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