December 27, 2015
#Juno #Blizzardof2015 #Snowmaggeddon. They are predicting the worst storm New York City has ever seen. The word historic was being thrown around a lot and a frantic fever was gaining force. We watched as the snow started to fall outside, half of the office didn’t even come in today, it was 1pm and everyone here was making plans to head home. Stressing about the availability of food, one or two days without Seamless enough to incident widespread panic.
I refreshed Twitter over and over again – everyone had their quirky storm update. Every office was closed tomorrow. They were expecting three feet in the city. Trains to Jersey would stop in about thirty minutes and a complete subway and traffic shutdown would follow at 11pm. Not even delivery bicycles would be allowed on the roads.
The Snow Day Facebook events and party invites started to flood in as we bundled up and headed for the Subway. Michael texted and said he would meet me at his place. I mentally scanned his cupboards and fridge, expecting them to be as empty as mine.
“The news coverage of these events had become like the moon landing. Ratings went crazy fueling this hype loop that made everyone think we would be trapped inside for a week.”
When we saw the line for Wholefoods stretched around the corner I started to take things seriously. I considered trying to gather supplies from somewhere else, but that would probably be just as bad. So I waited. For what would probably be a massively over exaggerated foot of snow. The news coverage of these events had become like the moon landing. Ratings went crazy fueling this hype loop that made everyone think we would be trapped inside for a week.
Traffic had already died right off, the roads like beautiful white sheets until the cars traced brown slush lines through the middle off them. I was one of those people that loved the snow in the city.
Michael sent me an image of a huge amount of booze sitting on his kitchen counter. At least we had that sorted. It was a pretty big deal who you chose to spend your storm with. The fact that we were committing to spending a confined twenty four hours together, watching the same stuff on Netflix, and relying on each other for life’s essentials. That must mean something.
Maybe I would look back at the #Blizzardof2015 as the moment we took it to the next level. He invited me to his place at a moment of crisis; that is serious right?
Was it the ultimate sign of commitment?
“What did you get?” He said, already in his old jogging pants anxious that I had confined him to two days of Quinoa.
“Carb city baby. I managed to grab a few treats. No bread or milk though, they were cleaned out. But I picked up this half and half. Had to fight for it.”
“Well done babe, I’ve lined up a bunch of shows for us. That’s if Netflix can handle the strain. Everyone will be pumping it.”
Within the hour we were in front of the TV, into our second episode of Grand Designs as he bitched about this big loft project he was working on, he always spoke about it so passionately, it was hot and you could see it was kind of a dick extension for him. Granted, it was pretty cool though, a new loft in SoHo, he took me up to see the space last week. They had gutted the top three stories of an old factory. All of the walls, ceilings, everything. One massive space with huge old windows. His boss had left him out of a couple of contractor meetings, making him paranoid that he was trying to take all the credit.
“Why be in a relationship if it doesn’t give you an open license to bitch about your work?”
When he took a breath, I seized my opportunity to complain about organizing the party – why be in a relationship if it doesn’t give you an open license to bitch about your work? Despite the fact that he labeled us ‘casual’ – how did that even become a vaguely acceptable relationship status?
I watched him on his phone; his hair was getting too long for the style. He had jumped on the hipster fade bandwagon, like the one even Brad Pitt had now. The sides had been shaved but he let them grow back too long, making the sides of his head look like a sponge.
“Styles permeate through different tiers, adopted by one group just as another abandons it.”
It was weird watching trends develop and spread. Styles permeate through different tiers, adopted by one group just as another abandons it. Once it started going mainstream the hipsters pushed it further, going to the skin on the sides. Now they seem to be going back to the Don Draper cut, that slick combed look.
We drank wine, my eyes moving between my phone, the TV and him. We were ‘that’ couple, one of thousands inside right now, when it was beautiful outside, a chance for a whole new perspective on the city. I replied to a group message from Charlotte and Viv, everyone was meeting up for drinks in the Lower East Side.
Michael threw his phone onto the couch, “I’ve got a couple of movies, what do you want to watch?”
“Let’s go out, it looks amazing.” I said, “Everyone has tomorrow off, it’ll be great. Snow day!” The storm wasn’t even going to hit till one in the morning, only light snow was falling outside.
He started yawning and doing the exaggerated exhales to show he is tired. This guy was 29 and I don’t think he had been out two nights in a row in months. For someone that was intent on staying in, it’s a surprise he was so keen on keeping things ‘casual’ between us.
“Everyone knows if they are a ‘fuck buddy’, or if they have some kind of ‘friends with benefits’ scenario, even an ‘open relationship’ is far more defined.”
I guess this was an extended six month hook-up. Was it because he was holding out hope of becoming some kind of player? I just couldn’t picture him putting in the effort, but maybe he was. We stayed at each other’s places a couple of nights a week, I’m ok with the whole casual thing, but it’s just weird. Everyone knows if they are a ‘fuck buddy’, or if they have some kind of ‘friends with benefits’ scenario, even an ‘open relationship’ is far more defined, but ‘casual’ has become his way of putting off any mature discussion about what we are.
Was this just practice for real life, a comfortable charade before we both grew up and entered real life? I’d met his parents, so at least he wasn’t one of those douchebags who doesn’t think his girl is worthy, that he’ll upgrade when he grows up.
“Everyone is meeting up in the LES. Some dive bar.”
“Yeah… maybe.” He nodded, but I could already see him lying back on the couch, settling in for the night.
“I’ve got to go for a walk, it’s too nice out. Want to come?”
“Na. Sorry babe.”
“Ok, no biggie.”
I bundled myself up and made my way down the middle of the dark white streets. The wind swirled the loose snow everywhere, catching it in the yellow street light. The place was a ghost town, only a couple of people snapping iPhone photos. I couldn’t resist, taking one of a teddy bear hanging from a power line.
I had wanted to somehow land on the subject of moving in together over the next two days, of me moving in with him more specifically. The timeframe for this in New York is somewhat warped, you either rush it because rent is so expensive or you wait because you don’t want to give up the great shared apartment you have going on. While I had a great apartment, it was the financial incentive that was driving me, that and some kind of pressure of what this ‘casual’ thing really was.