The unpredictable makes New York exciting. While, most American cities revel in the norm and expected, New Yorkers find joy in the mystery on the corner of 14th and Broadway. Romance is one of those oddities, which one often avoids. New York is the singleton’s paradise. There are too many men, too little time.
The New York City subway is as romantic as schlepping groceries up a six story walk up. However, the subway can produce some of the most romantic moments. Manhattan is America’s gay mecca. Naturally, gay is the norm.
I’ve found myself romanced on the subway. There was Mr. Hell’s Kitchen, who I met for an evening stroll in the Lower East Side. While we walked and talked circling the gritty yet hip sidewalks of Ludlow & Rivington, cupid’s arrow hit me in the head, ouch.
The Lower East Side has plenty of dark corners. However, we waited till we were on the subway to show how we really felt for each other. Right there, at the N train in Union Square, we made out. Both of us were completely sober. The subway kissing session was only that. After I walked him from the subway to his apartment in the west 40’s, the romance ended when the clock struck midnight.
While, I probably won’t make out with a guy on the subway again. There have been more subtle moments of romance on the busy train. During rush hour, a handsome guy sat leg to leg with me. Close leg contact is more understandable in people gridlock. As the train emptied, our legs were still attached. It seemed like someone had stuck us together with crazy glue. There was a certain amount of electricity. In the end I didn’t make a move and neither did he. Therefore, when his stop came, he simply left.
The innocent and over affectionate may have been part of my subway love story, but the awkward could also be added into the mix. One of the worst parts of the unpredictable is running into those guys who I dated from online that just keep popping out in the subway like Waldo. My remedy, get really involved in the New York Post and don’t look to the right side (or whatever side their at).
Gay happens, as does love. I’m not looking for Mr. Prince Charming. However, it’s nice to know he’s out there somewhere. He might be hiding under a rock or working at a cubicle overlooking Madison Square Park, but with gay being more accepted (especially in big cities like New York) coming out of the closet is easier. One could make out on the subway without one weird stare.