I found myself aimlessly wandering in the Lower East Side, near Rivington Street and Bowery. I think I just finished drinking beer and doing jaeger shots at Loreley, my favorite German spot here in Manhattan. Earlier during that day, I was going through a series of fortunate events I must say. My talent agent at ICM Partners, found me a publisher who wants to publish my new novel and next week I’m scheduled to receive a hefty cash advance of $300,000 for the book alone. But I since I was still fucking broke after the meeting, I asked my agent if I could get some money to live off on, and also so that I could quit my demeaning file clerk job at the law firm in midtown where I was making $12 an hour. That’s probably one of the worst day jobs that I ever had, I had to work with stagnant people who’ve been there for than a decade doing the same shit year after year. My agent, Cassandra, but I call her Cassie, agreed. She asked payroll to write me a check for $5000 and I cashed it right away at Citibank. I was so happy, for the first time in two years, I’m back in the saddle of good fortune. Life was finally starting to be nice to me. But to tell you the truth, I’m a bit cynical. Because no matter how successful you are in this fucking life, there’s always a possibility that you could lose everything in a blink of an eye. But I don’t want to dwell on that. I want to cherish and enjoy this New York life that I have for as long as I can. I started drinking at the Peculier Pub on Bleecker Street in Greenwich Village, then to the Red Lion Club next door where they have a live band that played 90’s alternative rock. I enjoyed myself a little bit. I’ve thought of calling some of my so-called friends but honestly speaking, I think I’m starting to enjoy my own company and that’s important. After I finished my screwdriver, I went to Indochino Men’s suit outlet in Soho, and bought myself with couple of brand new tailored suits. Luckily, they had the exact size for a skinny guy like me, I bought one grey suit and one black one, all are three piece. I decided to wear the grey suit and I gotta tell you that it felt like a million bucks. Then after that I went straight to Loreley, had myself a sauerbraten and one masskrug of wiehenstephaner beer.

While finishing my beer at Loreley, and enjoying my newfound success in the unforgiving and rewarding city of New York, I remembered how much I’ve suffered during the past six years of me living here. I remember being homeless and living on different couches of friends, and sometimes strangers that I randomly met at bars. I remember hanging out with my well-to-do friends and art openings just to get free food. Being broke here in New York is a pain in the ass, but somehow I’ve survived it. One of my friends called me a hustler because of my survival skills. In desperate times, I’m always a quick thinker. It’s not a skill, it’s a principle. All at the same time, I’m also surprised that I was able to preserve and accomplish my dreams after all these years. I’ve witnessed a lot of friends give up on their dreams in order to have a more realistic life, and it was the most depressing newsflash that I have to hear. But then again, I have the same dream since I was a child, to have a universe of my own and rule it. I guess being a writer with an agent and some money gets me closer to it. With a publishing deal and a slated autumn release of my novel, I realized that the struggles of the past is behind me now. And I’m thankful. I also managed to afford my very own studio apartment in the Financial District, the rent costs about $2,745. The apartment itself is already furnished and included a housekeeping service from the building. I would say that at this very moment, this present life is a far cry from the past.

As I continued my walk in Lower East Side, I eventually got tired and hailed a cab around Delancey Street and headed to East Village. I got off on 2nd Avenue and 12th Street. I went to the 12th Street Ale House bar and ordered a glass of Carlsberg. As I was about to finish my third glass of Carlsberg, I noticed the symptoms of a blackout, So I asked the bartender to give me a glass water so that I could catch a cab and go home. I was staying at a hostel style apartment near Columbia University. While I was about to finish my glass of water, I saw a young woman dressed in beige, I could hear her speaking in Portuguese. She’s either from Brazil or Portugal. She’s about twenty two or twenty three. It’s funny, because at my age of thirty one, I still look like I senior high school kid. I don’t know why really. I always attract college kids or someone younger than me. I never dated or hooked up with anyone who’s the same age as I am. Sometimes I feel like Peter Pan, everyone else around me has changed but I stayed the same. So I made the first move like a shameless bastard and sat next to her. Her friends were outside the bar smoking cigarettes.

“Hi there!” I said.
“Hello!” She replied.
“Having a good night?” I asked.
“Yes, my friends are outside smoking and it’s too bad that I don’t..” She replied.
“You know, there are other things aside from smoking that you could do..”
“Oh really?”
“Like what?”
“You will find out, eventually. Where’s your accent coming from?”
“Oh, my accent? From Brazil.”
“Very nice, I must say that Brazilians are good at bed.”

She laughed in an impressive manner.

“I meant that as a compliment.”
“I know you did.”

Then she looked at me with a look that only a stripper would give if she wants to fuck the client that she’s giving a lap dance with.

“My name’s Lorenzo.”
“I’m Gisele.”
“Gisele Bundchen?”

She laughed again.

“No, Gisele Bauth.”

Then after that, our sexual chemistry went in full blast and we started making out. I then led her to the spacious bathroom of the bar where we fucked passionately. I walked out of that bathroom with pride in my pants. Gisele was still inside retouching her make up. Before I left, I asked her if we could link up on Facebook or Instagram.

“Sorry, I don’t do dating.”
“Okay, well nice to meet you!”

I then walked out of the bathroom with a feeling of rejection. How could a beautiful girl let me fuck her but doesn’t want any strings attached?! She made me feel like shit. At that moment, I realized there’s no point in holding on to an emotional attachment that isn’t returned. So I went outside to have a cigarette. As I was about to stand at the corner, I found my dead psychiatrist, Suzanne. She’s wearing a crisp, white long sleeved shirt, with a pearl necklace and a grey skirt down to her knees.

“Congratulations! You found your fortune again.” She said.
“What fortune?” I asked.
“The publishing deal, a new novel coming out, and of course a ton of money about to come your way! You should be happy and thankful.”
“I am thankful!”
“Oh come on Lorenzo, you have the lucky cards dancing in front of you right now, don’t shit all over it!”
“What are you talking about? I’m not shitting on my fortune!”
“Then why are so sad?!”
“Because I’m unable to control everything!”

Suzanne sighed and looked at me with sympathy.

“You cannot have everything, you know that.”
“What do you mean by that? Are you telling me that I will never find true happiness?!”
“You already found your happiness. And now, it’s just a question of finding someone.”
“That’s a really comforting advice coming from a dead psychiatrist like you.”
“I don’t want to lie to you kiddo, but try to be content of what you have. Now that you have this renewed success on your shoulders, everyone out there will always want something from you. Just be careful. And try not to blow off all your money on booze and drugs.”
“I have a question for you..”
“Yes?”
“How come you never appear to me when I’m sober?”
“That’s because there’s no point. When you’re drunk or high, it’s way easier for me to give you a dose of some reality.”

I saw siren pass by on 2nd Avenue, I then looked back at the corner and Suzanne was gone. My dead psychiatrist disappeared. But all those things she said to me didn’t. Is it true? That you really cannot have everything? It’s kind of fucked up. When you’re rich, it’s hard to find true love. But when you’re in love, it’s okay to be broke. It’s a fucked up world indeed.

TO BE CONTINUED…