The Burglary

I have had four True Loves in my life so far. The oldest and truest has been, of course, The Beach. Now that the FamilyOh has a shore house, I feel like Beach and I are entering a more permanent and stable relationship, like a kind of marriage that will only get better with time.

True Love number two is Running. It's an abusive relationship, and while we're not seeing each other right now I can't quite let go of it. Most of my adult life and relationships have been somehow defined by Running. I need him, and I know I'll go back to him someday. I always do.

My third True Love is probably the most intricate relationship: New York City. We have a tough sort of love, one that makes me a better person because the city opened me up to food, culture and people I would have never eaten, seen or met otherwise. I've made the difficult decision to leave New York City in July and do my own thing in Maryland for a while, but ours is the kind of love where I'll always hope we can come back to each other in the future.

Cycling is my newest love, and we're still in those delicious early stages full of exciting firsts. We started off a little rocky back in 2006 when I was first learning to ride (ah, the ass bruise), but then our friendship developed in the second half of 2007 and now here I am falling in love instead of just falling down. It's funny how things work out that way sometimes.

So, dear readers, I have been heartbroken since early Friday morning. My lovely little Midtown apartment was burglarized on Thursday night when I was out at QZ's. No sign of forced entry, no fingerprints, no evidence. And the motherfucker stole my bike (among other things). I feel so angry toward the anonymous "they" who violated my home and shattered my sense of security. Being robbed is an exercise in the passive voice: my apartment was broken into, my belongings were stolen. But worst of all is how betrayed I feel by New York. I imagined how hard it would be to move but this is unforgivable and now my trust in this city is gone. I slept at QZ's place all weekend because every stray sound makes me jump and every footstep in the stairwell is coming upstairs to break in again. Replaying the What Ifs doesn't help either - what if we stayed at my place on Thursday night? Would this have still happened? Or would it have happened much, much worse?

And so I'm heartbroken. My third love betrayed me and stole away the means to my fourth love. Yes, I'm upset at the loss of all of my pictures, writing and music files that were on my laptop, and really, Burglar(s), did you have to steal my Netflix DVDs? That's just an inconvenience and for the record they were episodes of Freaks and Geeks. Oh, but my bike, my baby. It was the first big thing I ever bought for myself and I rode him with pride. Sure, I'll get a new bike, a lighter, fancier one now that I know how much I love this sport. But I always counted on having that one, even as I planned on upgrading in the future.

Like all True Loves, I hope my bike finds a good home with someone who loves him the way I did. As for me, I'm saying my prayers for the new deadbolt on my door and hoping that adage about lightning never striking twice is true.