The truth will out

July 5, 2011 § Leave a comment

Confession time! This is a bit of a doozy: I don’t love cities. There, I said it. I like them okay, and there are definitely parts of them that I would take hands-down over anything else (see: streets that smell like pizza, 24-hour-everythings, nightlife that does not involve line dancing). And yes, there is something in the water in Montreal that makes me want to stay there until I speak only French and eat only smoked meat sandwiches*. But at the end of the day (literally as well as figuratively), they exhaust me.

It’s hard, too, because people are always asking me leading questions implying that I must love. “Don’t you love Chicago?” they say. “Yes!” I gush, too enthusiastically. “Oh, Paris. Didja just love it?” “Of course!!” “New York City–you must love it there.” “Haha, that isn’t even a question but OF COURSE I DO” How are you supposed to tell these kind people that sometimes you wish you were still knee-deep in chicken shit on a 3-acre organic farm?

I’m an introvert, so I like being alone, and a city is nothing if not a constant reminder that other people exist. It’s tough–I realize that not three (ish) posts ago, I was whining about being alone, but I should have specified: being alone in a city makes it feel like you’re doing it wrong. Being alone anywhere else, that has stars and a quiet summer hum: this is an appropriate alone.

Does this mean I will not enjoy myself for the remainder of the summer? Don’t be a fool. I can eat $7-Gruyère-and-bacon-mac-and-cheese until 11 PM even on Sundays and catch a burlesque show or outside movie any night of the week. Plus, I still have half a bottle of rosé that I don’t think has turned yet. In short, no, and I will do my best to kindle my spark of affection for the concrete jungle.

*and drink only raspberry blondes, bien sûr


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