Decade One

Ten years ago today I moved to New York City after six years in San Francisco (gay) and eight in Fort Lauderdale (gay). I spent my first year here living in Chelsea (gay), then I lived in Hells Kitchen (gay) for a year, then I spent a year in the heart of the West Village, one block off Christopher Street. Gay, gay, gay. But for the last seven years I've been on the Upper East Side, living a couple of blocks from the tallest building in the above photo. A neighborhood that is SO not gay. I've sometimes pondered why I'm now content to be living in relative remoteness from "the scene" which once had such an irresistible draw, lying to myself that it's inertia that keeps me on the UES. And certainly not, you know, aging. Ahem.

I don't think that on March 18, 2001 I seriously thought I'd be here three years, much less ten, but New York City has this strange power over you in which you become almost afraid to leave, lest you "miss" something. On the other hand, I never really fell in love with this town, not in that heart-stopping "OMG, this place is amaaaazing" way that I did with San Francisco. In fact, I spent my first year here mired in great regret, logging in every morning to look at live traffic shots of the Golden Gate Bridge. But still, everything you hear about NYC is true. It's the most, the least, the best, the worst. It's that funky stew that keeps me here. And probably will for a long time. Decade Two begins today.