Sexy Arrogance

New York has a way of kicking your ass like no other city I’ve been in. Anywhere else you can have a long tough day and your journey home will suck for no other reason than you are just in a bad mood. In New York you will leave, try and get a cab and there’s suddenly none, a passing car can splash dirty puddle water right up on you, your heel will snap and when you finally grab that elusive taxi, you’ll realize half way home that you’ve left your wallet in the office. It’s never just one kick, New York will grab that sucky ass day and kick your butt the entire length of Manhattan.
In the months I’ve been here, I’ve come up against more challenges and more tough situations than I could imagine. What’s gotten me through this is the friends I’ve made. We laugh over the shitty tests this city manages too throw at you seemingly on a weekly basis. When you know people are facing the same trials, it’s reassuring and gives you that strength to see it through.
Sunday afternoon I’m sitting with my gay male buddy having chats over beers. We’re discussing exactly this, the challenges of living in the Big Apple. He tells me that October and November were two of his toughest months in the city. Work politics, money issues and lack of knowing people in this big city got on top of him. He tells me how happy he is since we met in January. Having a partner in crime changes your perspective on how life is. He tells me, in a love-in moment, that I’ve brightened up his life. I feel the same, he’s an awesome guy and someone I instantly connected with.
We discuss our similar personality traits, he’s as brutally honest as I am. We can tell each how how it is, straight and without bullshit. Then he tells me he loves my arrogance.

I nearly fall off my barstool laughing. I’m arrogant? He says yes, but it’s sexy arrogance. What the fuck is sexy arrogance, I ask him. He tells me to think Heather Locklear in Melrose Place.

Not bad, I can handle that. I can be Heather.

The night before I’d gone to a birthday party hosted by Australians I know from my years spent in Sydney. There’s an Aussie guy there that I guess I’ve caught the attention of judging from the glances he keeps throwing my way.

We leave the house and hit Niagra in the East Village. He still does not approach me properly, but instead employs the Aussie lad technique of showing me he’s interested by buying me beers.

It gets to the point where I’ve got three full bottles of Bud in my hands and I’m unable to literally hold anymore beers. I have to tell him to stop buying me drinks. He’s not even chatting me up, just throwing drinks at me. He’s no idea how else to show his intentions.

At the end of the night, he orchestrates it so that we share a taxi home, despite the fact that it’s a stretch to pretend we are going in the same direction.

The next day I receive a Facebook friend request from him. He messages me telling me that when we were in the cab and he’d gone for the kill, afterwards he’d leaned back and looked at me and said “Wow, you are a really good kisser”.

He tells me I played it cool, apparently rolling my eyes and answering “yeah, I know”.

Right so that’s this arrogance coming in.

A couple of days later I’m walking with my girlfriend laughing about this interaction. I’d forgotten how Aussie guys are.
“I mean, I’m just used to how fucking arrogant New York men are”. I’m feeling passionate about my observations so my voice is loud along this street and I manage to lock eyes with a passing New York dog walking bloke as I say this. He smirks at my statement and winks at me as he passes. “I’m sorry”, I tell him, embarrassed. He shrugs, unoffended and acknowledging.
That’s sexy arrogance right there.

New York men are sexy arrogant. They are unapologetic about what they want.

New York City is sexy arrogant. It’s the city that will kick your sore ass from the top to the tip and it knows you’ll come back. New York knows it’s appeal and it’s arrogant about it. Oh yeah, you find me tough? You still love me though and you’ll come back for more.

Sexy arrogance.

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