The Naked Apple

Repoting from the modern middle class

Posts Tagged ‘love

Love 2.0

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I met you five years ago after you read my dating profile on the internet. We met for an evening and then I said I didn’t want to see you again and we didn’t. Your name has faded from my memory but I remember a lot about you.

“I ran past you in the park the other day when you were smelling a flower. Yesterday, you left the restaurant as I arrived. This morning you stood on the uptown platform while I waited for the downtown train. For one evening, be more than a perfect stranger.”

You liked this profile – I felt awkward writing it but I was glad it had found you.

I chose the Fitzpatrick Hotel on the Upper Eastside for us to meet and share a small meal. You’d move from Nebraska where you lived with your grand parents to pursue a career in New York’s publishing scene. Your life was filled with books and running; running mile after mile on your own. You preferred the company of older country people and I don’t think you’d made too many new friends.

The carefully applied makeup sat uncomfortably on your face that night and I appreciated it all the more. You were comically beautiful, like an American who moves to Japan and finds she is suddenly very tall. At home you were a pretty grand daughter and took this as just another complement among many. Here you were a young woman with lips that longed to be kissed.
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Written by The Naked Apple

February 23, 2009 at 12:09 pm

Posted in life

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How I Bought My Second Engagement Ring

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love

“I need you to make a decision, as I can’t start married life with a white lie. I have found the engagement ring of your dreams, bigger than you could ever imagine in a red Cartier box from Paris. But, the ring is for sale by a divorcee in Manhattan.” Pause. “This is the only way we can afford such a ring. But I won’t be able to lie about how I acquired it. So that’s your first option, perfect ring – bad story. The second is something a little more modest and will be bought by conventional means from a jeweler in the diamond district.” I waited for her to speak like she was deciding where we’d spend the rest of out lives together. Would we chase trinkets, ambition or love together.

“Will you be cross if I want the Cartier one?”

With the matter settled and my conscience clear, I began the transaction. The seller and I communicated by email and when we finally met on the corner of Church and Broadway, I was surprised to learn that Charlie was a woman. She’d brought a male friend with her in case I was setting her up though he looked too small for the job; until then I hadn’t contemplated the transaction from the seller’s side. Our meeting took place in a small jeweler’s store that I’d chosen where an elderly gent, armed with a monocle, confirmed the stone’s authenticity.

We met a second time, a few days later at a Commerce Bank in Brooklyn Heights. Sat at the bank manager’s desk together, I wired $16,000 to her account and handed her the receipt. The cashier assumed we were a couple nervously transferring a deposit on our first apartment; I smiled, and explained that the world moves in funny ways sometimes and summarized my short relationship to Charlie.
Afterwards, we crossed the road, talking like awkward friends who have neglected to stay in touch, and found a table in a nearby Starbucks . The red box was passed across the table and she began to cry quietly as if letting go of an unwanted love like it was an abandoned infant. I quickly placed the box out of sight and stumbled over the appropriate things to say.
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Written by The Naked Apple

February 19, 2009 at 3:04 pm