i remember the first night i went out with him. no big group of friends, just us two.

it was at the dove parlour on thompson street between bleecker and west 3rd. he chose the spot and i trusted his judgement praying it wasn't some bougie/ trendy greenwich village bar.

he looked so cute in his button down flannel and black beanie in the chilly september evening. we both had first time jitters and an approaching dinner reservation at alta on west 10th. needless to say, the conversation carried us half past an hour over our dinner reservation before we noticed and i couldn't bare the thought of eating anything anyway, i was so nervous.

we headed over walking awkwardly side by side (more so awkward on my end, as i tend to curve people to the left of me... why do i walk like that??...), but we made it.

he chose multiple small entrees that just kept-a-comin and we shared all of them.

it was one of the best dinners i ever had whilst living in nyc. and i have had a lot of great dinners there.

we drank wine and talked and lightly sauntered towards mercer street, where he was living at the time.
it was getting colder out as the night progressed, so i took the plunge and rode up the elevator to the seventeenth floor with him.

it's interesting when two semi-broken souls connect for a time; the two are intertwined and made whole again by one another, if only for a little bit. i loved that. i had never felt that from being with another person. it's as if my problems, his past, and the convulsions of the city were all silenced and it was just us alone, our breaths our heartbeats.

i think of him often and will forever cherish his friendship and adoration. and also those 8 am morning walks home to the village with my coffee and the city of manhattan, just waking up, a new day.