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Deal Breakers

November 29, 2010

Think about the mate you would like. Now write down a list of all the deal breakers that you will not, under any circumstances, be able to look past. The person you end up wanting to go out with again, the one you end up liking, will have most of the things on that deal breaker list. Guaranteed. And you probably won’t even care.

My best friend in the world, Nicole, grew up right here in Manhattan with me. Growing up she was the Bonnie to my Clyde. Or vice versa? I’d have to think about it. Whenever we found trouble, we found it together. We were born on the same day, in the same hospital, with the same delivery doctor and she grew up right around the corner from me. Literally. We went to the same schools, we went to camps in the same small Berkshires town, we ended up at the same college, we even married guys with same name. I went first. She caught the bouquet at my wedding. Sounds creepier than it is. Or is it?

After our kids were born, we would meet up weekly and have a quick beer on a sunday at a secret old irish pub that was our special place. And by special, it meant we would never run into anyone we knew and we loved that. Early on in my divorce I would go to her apartment on the nights Bear was at his dads and she would cook me dinner. Her husband would yell at me for eating dessert before dinner and we would make faces behind his back. We would meet up in Central Park with our kids on the weekends and have them play in the Meadow just as we had years and years ago. Well, we played differently in the Meadow back then…but that’s a story for another time. I had always assumed our kids would go to school together. The same one we went to. A couple of years ago she announced she was moving to Brooklyn. I didn’t believe her. Until…she actually moved to Brooklyn. I was crushed. It’s not that I have anything against Brooklyn. In fact, there are parts of Brooklyn I love. My parents grew up there. I was raised on Nathan’s hot dogs and the Cyclone when visiting my grandparents. But..it’s just..well…not the city. Okay! Okay! It technically is. But I am very Manhattan-centric. Forgive me!

“How will I ever see you again?”
“I work in the city Darcy. Right near your house.”
“It’s not the same.”
And I was right. We didn’t see each other as often as we used to. She is more like a pen pal in Sri Lanka now. A pen pal I write to on Blackberry Instant Messenger.

When I visit her in Brooklyn, I drive as though I am taking a road trip to the country.
“Bear, would you like a snack for the drive? Are you sure you used the bathroom?” I pack enough car activities for a road trip to Canada. I am always surprised when it takes me under ten minutes to her house with no traffic. There was no point in which I could stop at a look out, or even for gas for that matter. I can’t say even say for certain my car ever touched a highway.

When she takes a cab home from my apartment I am always in shock.
“You mean a cab to a train? A cab to a donkey caravan? A cab to a hot air balloon maybe?”
“No Darcy. A yellow taxi right to my door.”
Just so you know her “door” is to a house. Which is pretty suburban is you ask me.

Every year on our shared birthday we would host get-togethers since we share many of the same friends. This year…she hosted her birthday in Brooklyn. Oh the betrayal! On the invite she wrote, “Don’t worry folks, the beer tastes the same in Brooklyn.
But does it really?

When Leo (See: Under My Umbrella) told me he lived in Brooklyn I decided to go on the date anyway. I wanted to shake things up a bit and step outside my box. My box that doesn’t involve a bridge or tunnel of any kind.

“This is going to be the guy I end up liking isn’t it? The guy that lives all the way in Brooklyn.” I said to Nicole, as I headed out to meet my date after work before he headed back over a bridge or tunnel to get back to his house.

On our first date I decided it actually didn’t matter. I liked Leo even if he did live (cringe) in another borough. Apparently, not only does a tree grow in Brooklyn, but so does a really great guy.  Leo lost his license so he is currently using his passport as an ID. I suspect it’s because he actually needs a passport to get home. Maybe I was right this whole time. Maybe you do need to go through customs to get to and from Brooklyn.

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8 Comments leave one →
  1. November 29, 2010 12:59 pm

    Well, maybe not customs. But I’d imagine at least a pat down and/or full body scan would be wise….

  2. December 1, 2010 1:17 pm

    Aw, you guys sound like Carrie/Miranda when she moved to Brooklyn. And with that reference, it’s official: I’ve watched way too much Sex & The City.

    Good luck with the new guy! I look forward to hearing more about your trips to Brooklyn 🙂

    • December 1, 2010 6:07 pm

      Thanks so much! Yes! That’s how it felt when she moved. As for traveling to brooklyn…lets not get carried away! 🙂

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