The Lifelong Crush

The perfect relationship would be like the one I have with Montreal.

I feel almost constantly in love with the city. I enjoy the crisp nostalgia of Fall; the frigid romanticism of Winter; the desperation of Spring; and the aaahhh of Summer. Montreal is as much a familiar comfort as an ever-changing evolution. When I’m bored of the routine, there’s the bustle, and when I’m in a more introverted mood, there’s the reassuring history. Montreal is never demanding but always gently nudging with opportunities to see something new, meet someone different, go outside. We both enjoy music, art, discussion, social reunion, tagging, life without a car, urban living, less crime, tongue-in-cheek humour, lots of restaurants, no dress code, and heaps of style. Ok, on that last one, I think the city might have something on me.

The happiest moments in my relationship are when I come home from somewhere else. Planes are dull and suffocating until I’m flying in a little 737, trying to figure out what part of the landscape below is Laval and what part is home. Then, I suddenly love flying as much as when it was new to me. I’m excited to be back, every single time. I can’t wait to get in that cab, see what kind of driver I get this time, and follow the familiar old highways, with their graffiti and crumbling cement, through the same winding patterns I’ve been driven along forever, home.

Montreal loves me back. It shows me what I want, what enriches my life, such as the street art everywhere in my neighbourhood: the stickers and stencils and tags and inadvertent interventions of the cityspace that give my daily life meaning. It feeds me with maple syrup, breakfast with friends, bring your own wine, croissants, bagels, and ninety-nine cent pizza. It invites my favourite bands to play right around the corner, in a cozy little venue, for $12. For $635 a month, it provides me with an apartment with a balcony and view of Mount Royal, electricity and heating included. It brings people to my life, like the Brazilian lady who runs the bakery; or the Chilean woman who sells sandwiches and salads; and the local kids who work as cashiers at my local supermarket.

I’m in love with this city, and I don’t know anyone yet who could compete with such a love, desire, passion, affair, ever-changing cozy relationship that we have. Not even on a rainy day.


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