Weathering the Fall

My brother left New York more than a decade ago, and returned for the first time last weekend. He came back to find that he could barely remember exactly where on his block he had lived. The East Village is now capped with a luxury high rise buildings and nicer restaurants than he’d known in his time there. Though he wasn’t surprised to see what had changed, throughout the weekend he continued to wonder what his life would have been like if he’d stayed. I surmised that at 31 he’d probably still be single, or at least not married with two kids, as he currently is, and also that he’d probably not have wanted to stay in his tiny apartment, which we all thought to be a dump back then, even though it is now quite desirable address for people my age.

It made me wonder too what my life will be like if I remain in this town for the next decade. Will I still remain scraping by in an apartment in the eastern boroughs, and consider every 2 week to 2 month relationship as significant as the marriages my friends from back home and high school rushed into after college? Their marriages may take years to unravel, resulting in relentless analysis and heartache, but in New York our love lives seem to barrel along the path to destruction much faster, allowing us to pack countless romances into the space of our twenties with as much acumen as we pack a lifetime of belongings into studio apartments.


Not long ago I celebrated my official one year anniversary of living here, and predictably, on the surface not much has changed. My apartment and my income has progressed only slightly, and though I had my first brush with love, my romantic landscape is still primarily littered with first dates and one night stands and is plagued by drought more often than flooded with potential everlasting monogamy. If there were a Farmers Almanac equivalent to dating in the city its forecasts would most likely not vary from year to year, yet would remain steady from season to season until the crop of available men had rotated enough to allow for hearty relationships to flourish.

Weathering natural disasters and crop failures is the life of a farmer, and as we head into a recession we may have to learn how to do just the same. The city’s yield of desirable bachelors in the world of finance and banking are now being hit the hardest, and those of us in the low paying realm of media who expect them to keep us afloat in times of famine, may now be forced to pick from our own field. I often envied my friends whose careers afforded them more fashionable addresses, clothes, and dinners out, but now it seems to be a privilege just to be employed.

To say that this has no effect on our love life is very naïve indeed. Serial dating can be quite costly and the stress of going Dutch at dinners or drinks may make us want to give up the practice altogether. Like those who are happy to cling to their positions while the market sorts itself out, I now find myself most envious of those in relationships who have a significant other with whom to weather this storm. I once read on a guy’s dating profile, or perhaps this was on TV, that if you offer to make me dinner for our second date, I’ll think that you’re cheap. If that’s the case then maybe a first date may be something to avoid as well.

So in these troubled times, what’s a lonely gay man to do? Going out to the bars may be too costly if one is trying to live on a budget, and dates more once a week can add up to much more than one would spend eating at home. The internet offers the opportunity to meet and chat for free, but with the caveat that it’s never as good as the real thing.

Now is the time that we band together as singles, throw parties and introduce each other to our friends. It’s in all our best interest to find someone to brave the fall and the fall-out with, so why not think of new and creative ways to spend out recreational time? A box of wine, a case of beer, and a handle of vodka can certainly fuel a party, and you may just meet the man of your dreams in your friend’s crowded apartment more easily than in a crowded bar.

My brother wonders what his life would have been like if he’d stayed in New York, and though his favorite haunts and home have been altered beyond recognition, I can’t help but feel a little bit jealous that he got out when he did. The high cost of dining, shopping, and drinking in the city is a lot easier to bear when you know you have someone waiting at home. But even when times are tough in the city, you never know when the weather will change, and we won’t have to face the heartache or eons of analysis that would accompany leaving the city we have come to love.

Originally appeared on 9/30/2008 on homo-neurotic.com