We didn’t need an indie soundtrack to control the mood. Or gogo dancers to heighten the senses. Or alcohol to make it mindless.

When I was a million miles away from home I was less alone than I am now. All I can think about is what she said… that she’d miss me and that she hoped that I would come to visit again. The typical. She’d be waiting. Even though she’s afraid of Americans. Even though she’s afraid of the world. But to her I was the embodiment of New York… and Carrie’s Mr. Big… except I had lips like Jay Z and I said “awesome” alot. She was still afraid to stand too close. Body language was struggling to bridge the gap that the broken English had left between us. But I knew better than to stop the momentum: the car, the bags, the preliminary security, the gate girl, the restaurant, the phone call, the texts, the passport check and the goodbyes. I vowed not to look back and I didn’t – I just walked backwards a little slower than I usually do. But it was the least I could do. She deserved a romantic gesture since she was beautiful and she had brought me the tea that I loved in a beautiful handmade box. It was the least I could do since she skipped class, missed sleep, ditched her friends and drank rosé even though she hates rosé… just to hang out with me. It wasn’t until I landed and Harry asked me what was the best party I had been to over there that I realized that I didn’t even care about parties right now. I cared about… you know what I cared about. In the cab I thought about how we didn’t need to talk to communicate. We didn’t need an indie soundtrack to control the mood. Or gogo dancers to heighten the senses. Or alcohol to make it mindless. But now reality sets in and I realize that I will have to adapt to the bullshit called “my everyday” again. Just when I was ready to learn a third language. Just when I was ready to eat sushi rolls that only come with Philadelphia cream cheese.

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