19 Days To Dudes: "Slow Night" (Outtake from Mine and Yours)

I knew three people in Manhattan when I moved there in 1999. I spent a lot of nights walking the island by myself. Some nights I would go to the 2nd Ave. Deli, order beer and matzoh ball soup and write letters. Or read. (A whole lot of Milan Kundera, if the ‘Life is Elsewhere’ line in “Slow Night” can be trusted.) On others, I would walk across town and see a movie at the Village Cinema. One of the better ones was La Vie Rêvée des Anges, which featured an enchanting young actress named Elodie Bouchez.

Occasionally, I would spot a pretty girl and follow her, from a distance, for as long as I could. Sometimes she would go into a restaurant or a bar to meet friends. Sometimes she would just stop off at the deli for some groceries and go home to her apartment.

One night I followed a girl with honeyed skin and chestnut hair all the way to Astoria, Queens, the last stop on the N train. A few blocks down Ditmars Blvd., she stepped into a barbershop with a big window across its front. It was full of men and women that all appeared to be at least 40 years older than the girl; they all smiled and hugged and pinched and kissed when she came in. Eventually she removed her overcoat to reveal a embroidered white dress and blue stockings. Then she wrapped a white kerchief around her head and began to instruct the elderly people in some kind of traditional dance. From the opposite sidewalk I watched them twirl and laugh for about half an hour as frenetic accordion music leaked out onto the street. Then I walked back to the train. By the time I got off at Union Square, I had married the girl, sired three stout little Scotch-Greek children and fallen into a pleasant habit of sharing baklava and Ouzo with her father on Sundays.

This was well before broadband Internet or a 3G cellular network was a daily part of my existence. I had not even brought a TV to New York. I figured, hey, I live in New York now; why would I possibly need a television?

It’s been a long time since I had any nights as slow as those first months I lived on 13th St. Now, there is always something handy to alleviate the boredom, the loneliness, the unexpected thoughts that naturally pop up when I find myself with a few solitary hours or minutes. And sometimes, when I’m checking my email while waiting in a line or streaming a movie instead of going out for a night stroll, I get a sinking sensation that an unbearably light and beautiful opportunity is receding into the distance, moving out of focus, while my eyes stay locked on a tiny little screen.

I don’t always find it comfortable to be where I am. But I sometimes miss the days when there weren’t any other options.