Dear Harper, Mansion Nights and Cheesecake Epiphanies

Dear Harper,

If you’re ever wondering about the type of person you’ll fall for later on in life, look back on these two stories. They were my favorite to tell growing up. Here’s the first:

Years ago, when I wasn’t dealing with the real world yet, I had a close friend. Her and I were polar opposites — perhaps the reason our friendship lasted as long as it did. One night, after stuffing our faces full of sushi and wonderful, cheap red wine on her outdoor patio, she suggested we take a walk. It was a little before midnight and Bob Dylan was playing softly through the speakers. We took her small BoomBox and some more wine and walked into her neighborhood street into a starry night.

We walked to the neighborhood complex across from hers and found a mansion-like house that was still in the process of being built. This property was huge — it lay at the bottom of a hill, surrounded by fences and weeds. My friend suggested we go down to check out the place. When climbing the sharp fence failed, I kicked it in for us to walk over. We waded through the grass until we reached the foundation, staring in awe at this empty, soon-to-be palace towering in front of us. It was just empty rafters, rooms, and wooden staircases — totally barren. It reminded me of George Bailey’s house from It’s a Wonderful Life.

We walked through the open doorway and shined our flashlights around this (probably haunted) home. After exploring, we sat on the dusty floor and kept our flashlights pointed upwards. From there, we talked about our silly lives. We drank a lot more wine and laughed and listened to Rilo Kiley because their album, The Execution of All Things, defined our youth back then. You could call it all romantic but I prefer to think of it as more an adventure. My friend spoke about her art, its future success and what it meant to her, while I talked about getting older, and my clichéd, constant fear of time. But more than those things, we talked about the house we were sitting in. Someday (soon!), a large family would move in and raise their kids in it. Couples, mothers, and fathers would come and go, some seeing their kids off to school every day while going to work. They’d use this house for Trick or Treating, for family holiday dinners, or for taking pictures during Prom. They’d grow old and grey there, before passing it down to another family.

But ironically, they’d never know about the first two people who were there that night. They’d never know that we were the first ones in that amazing home, sitting on the floor, dancing through the rooms singing along with Jenny Lewis. Two lost souls trying to figure out the world in front of them.

Years later, my friend would write to me about the house and tell me, “the night we snuck in to that place, I swear, we gave it a soul.”

And as for that friend? Dear Harper, I was in love with her! But that’s another story for another time. Now, story two:

Years ago, I was sitting in a Tribeca restaurant in the late hours of a cool, spring New York night. My friends sat across from me and we talked about a mediocre Zac Efron film we’d just seen. This particularly trendy comfort food place happened to be open 24/7, meaning anyone was welcome at any time. So then, like clockwork, they walked in.

The waiter led a very famous movie star couple (no, I’m not naming them) to their table a few seats behind us. Sadly enough, my cocktail in front of me was soon gone and suddenly I was trying not to stare. It was Friday night. People were out on the city streets running amok on the crazy avenues and these two famous fools were sitting across from each other without a care in the world. Had they just gotten off work? Or come from a cooler party? Was I just imagining everything or did Bubby’s (Dammit that’s the name of the place!) just cater to the sweet-toothed simple folk?

Suddenly, a huge slice of cheesecake was being brought to their table. The minute the plate met the table; he got up from his seat and moved to the other side of the booth to sit next to her. And then it was just the two of them, on the same side of the table, sharing cheesecake and coffee in the middle of the night. Yes, I was pretty sure that was what love looked like — you just needed to find someone willing to laugh and enjoy your company over a 500 calorie dessert.

The moral of both stories: find someone who you can take chances with. And remember, that despite being hip to the nightlife of a 20-something crazy soul, sometimes all you really need is a person to share cheesecake and coffee with in those wonderful, early morning hours.

Eternally Yours,

Matt