I [Heart] NY

B and I first started discussing New York about a month into our relationship but I never seriously thought we would make it to the point where we’d be taking a trip to my hometown together. I didn’t think we’d see out the month, let alone still be together 8 months later. Even when we bought our tickets (about 3 months in advance) I was thinking up a contingency plan after our inevitable breakup. Needless to say, 8 months came and went and we were soon off to spend 2 weeks in the States—10 days in New York (alternating between 2 friends’ apartments) with 5 days in Maryland in between to visit my parents. B’s excitement about New York was too cute. He lives and breathes hip hop and couldn’t wait to walk the streets of idols. He’s seen every New York-based movie and was determined to retrace the steps of his favorite films. He said to me, “After I see New York, I can die happy” and I remember having the same feeling once upon a time. My relationship with New York goes through waves and lulls—even with the conscious knowledge that I lived in the greatest city in the world, just as often as not, I felt fed up, exhausted, stressed out and annoyed with the place. I never walked across the Brooklyn Bridge or climbed to the top of the Empire State Building. I talked sh*t and complained about everything b/c that’s what we do. Sure, the view of the Manhattan skyline always made me smile, but I forgot about that particular giddy, child-like enthusiasm that the city can make you feel until B arrived and reminded me. I was excited to experience New York with him, to show him my world.
And we had the most amazing time. It was exhausting and way too short. We didn’t get to see everything I wanted to see/do, but B got a small taste of my amazing city and naturally, fell in love with it. I loved that he was so eager to go out and explore. To take it upon himself to wake up early to pickup donuts and coffee everyday for breakfast while I slept in. I loved his excitement at seeing an old-fashioned ice cream truck. I loved that he was so un-New York as to actually start conversations with strangers in the street from sheer curiosity.

And in Maryland was just chill. I let him sit in my favorite chair to watch TV, we hung out at the mall I spent my adolescence in, swam in the pool and just relaxed with old friends and family. And my mother ADORED him. Naturally, being the Haitian mother that she is, she showed her acceptance by trying to suffocate him with food every 2 seconds. But she noticed all the little things (his manners, how he takes care of me, how well he treats me) and said, “That’s a good man—you better not let him get away”.
Growing up as an only child, the only deep interactions I had with people who weren’t my blood family was with friends. As with many other people, my friends became my family. Granted, I have lots of friends and not all of them hold the same amount of weight as others, but each person is significant for one reason or another. So the biggest thing to me was being able to introduce the man I love to the people who matter the most to me—I wanted them to love him as much as I do.
But I forgot that at the end of the day, B is pretty shy. That he’s not Mr. Life of the Party around strangers and isn’t the easiest person to get to know. I forgot that in a group of Americans speaking rapid-fire English in a loud crowded bar he can’t always keep up. I didn’t know what would happen when I took B out of his element. I expected him to just be able to jump in, stand his ground and be instantly comfortable in the middle of the silly, familiar banter that I’d developed with people after years of friendship. And I mistakenly thought that my friends would instantly see in him what I see. And although people had a chance to meet him briefly, I didn’t give many people the chance to get to KNOW him one-on-one and therefore, it was hard for most of my friends to form an opinion about him. With me, he’s B. He’s not perfect and he drives me crazy at times. He tells stupid jokes. He insists on his jeans and t-shirts. He gets moody and sullen and French on me at times, but my heart still skips a beat when I see his face. He is sweet and adorably awkward, gentle and so fragile. Why God put us together is beyond me, but between him and me, it just works. B is just about my polar opposite but he makes me happy.
But does he fit into my world? At the end of this wonderful year in Paris, would I be able to pack him up, bring him to New York and seamlessly integrate him into my life? That is the big question I was left with. Maybe it’s not meant to be as simple as that, but for a girl who is rarely without her friends, I cannot imagine having to try to split my time between B and my friends b/c they don’t care to get along. My boyfriend and my friends—we have to ALL be one family. As deeply as I love a man, I could not give up my friends for any one person—and I don’t know if I could deal with him not loving them as much as I do.
On the flip side, I’m still evolving and growing. Oprah said she didn’t truly know who she was until she turned 50. This is my first real relationship so I’m still figuring out how things work. Add to that the fact that we fell in love under unique circumstances and I didn’t have the normal springboard of opinion from my friends from Day 1 (whether that is a good or bad thing is debatable). I don’t know if my concerns are valid or just a bunch of rubbish that doesn’t matter at the end of the day. About 8 weeks till I leave Paris (GOD!) so only time will tell…