New York is a real city. But sometimes, the situations, people, and things that I encounter appear to be an illusion. I’m not even sure anymore if I still believe in love. Sex is easy in Manhattan but try your shot in finding “real love” and you will notice that the music stops. It only reminds me of the last person and probably the only one that I truly loved – Hanna, my German fascination from Munich.

Last week, I moved to a new place in Harlem. The previous studio apartment that I had in Upper West Side got so expensive that  I was forced to cut back on my monthly rent. So decided to rent a room instead, in the gentrified area of West Harlem. The room is spacious and has a walk in closet. It’s a 4 bedroom apartment on 149th street and Broadway. Rent is $700 a month.  For the type of income that I have working as an Office Assistant, it’s an ideal price. I rarely see my three other roommates. We all work different shifts and whenever I’m home, nobody’s around and when they’re home, I’m not around, so it all works out for the best. I went through a bout of depression again last Friday night, and  I figured I could pretend to be an alcoholic for a night or two. So I hopped on the subway at the 145th Street station. I got on the 1 train heading down to Times Square and then transferred to the N train and got off at Union Square.  I then headed to the Key Bar on East 13th Street and 1st Avenue in East Village. I stepped inside and saw four or five people inside. I sat down by the bar and ordered myself a glass of Maker’s Mark. They were playing a song by U2 , “With or Without You”.

The song only reminded me of Hanna. But I blocked it out by by finishing my drink in one shot. Then I ordered another glass of Maker’s Mark. Then there’s a blonde guy who walked in of the bar and his friend, a pretty girl with deep green eyes and dark hair. The blonde guy saw me looking at his friend so I looked in a different direction. Just by looking at them, I can tell they’re not fucking. So I started staring at the girl, she glanced back at me. And I also recently noticed that both of them are now staring at me. It made me feel uncomfortable. So I pretended to be walking to the bathroom, with my hand in my pocket.The girl then called me out.

“Excuse me,”
“Yes?”

I walked closer to her and stared at her eyes.

“My friend here thinks that you’re cute”
“Oh really? Because I think that you’re cute as well”

She smiled back at me. Her friend started smiling at me too.

“I’m Jack”
“I’m Lorenzo”
“Hey, you guys haven’t forgotten about me have you?”

Me and Jack laughed at her.

“So what is your name?”
“It’s Stella”
“Nice to meet you Stella, I’m Lorenzo!”

Stella then grabbed me by the neck and kissed me full on the lips. Then Jack did the same. I haven’t declared my sexuality in that moment. But it didn’t feel wrong or confusing. I mean, they were both decent looking.. But it doesn’t mean that I’m going for a tag team in the long run.

After a few more shots of whiskey, and a cans of PBR, we decided to leave the bar and find a place where we could actually chill. Jack mentioned that he has an apartment on Avenue A, which is nearby. So we walked to his apartment,on the second floor an old brownstone building that smelled like piss. As we arrived in Jack’s apartment, he immediately sat us down in the living room and went to his room and came back out with a small ziploc bag of cocaine. Stella started holding my hand. I looked at her and she seemed a little nervous. Jack started doing lines of coke on the table, he made three decent lines using his AMEX card.

“Lorenzo! You do the first line.” Jack ordered.
“Why me? It’s your coke, therefore you should be the first.” I responded.
“Okay, both of you are being pussies right now!” Stella barked. She grabbed the AMEX card from Jack, shaped her lines and snorted it. She then gave it to Jack and he followed. Then there’s me, about to snort cocaine for the first time in six months. And I did. Jack decided to put on some music, he played mostly 90’s tracks: 4 NON BLONDES, NIRVANA, NEW RADICALS, OASIS, and FATBOY SLIM. After we finished snorting all the coke, Stella stood up from the couch and slowly walked towards the bedroom. Me and Jack were looking at her like panting puppies. So we both stood up as well as followed her into the bedroom. And then I thought to myself, this doesn’t happen everyday, this is just a moment. An illusion. Why not enjoy it while I can?

After I left Jack’s apartment around 2 AM, I walked around Union Square Park, sat down down on the square next to the protesters who almost lives in that spot. Then I looked at the running numbers on top of the building across from the park. Took out my Marlboro red cigarette and smoked it. I puffed on my cigarette as I looked up the running numbers, until now not too many New Yorkers really know what those numbers are for. When I googled it, I found out that it’s actually an art wall. It’s a digital clock called the Metronome. It has fifteen digits. The first four digits indicates the actual time.The rest of the numbers are constantly running and blurring numbers. Remaining minutes and seconds. If life is fast as the Metronome, how many illusions are in there? Will I able to live it all? In a way I’m glad that I went home with Stella and Jack, I lived in that moment. I was also aware that it was an illusion and it was up to me to take it or leave it. And leaving something where I could see myself enjoying life, is the last thing that I want to do.