When we exit, I turn off the recorder and tuck my phone away. I’ve accomplished some of what I’ve come to do today. I understand what motivates him. He’s a man of learning, not only a numbers guy. He finds inspiration everywhere. That’s what makes him tick.

Perhaps he’s figured out it’s my jam, too, because I love the tour.

He’s a member of the New York City Transit Museum, and they offer private tours for its members. A docent shows a small group of us through the once splendid subway station and I drink in the mosaics, the architecture, the feel of old New York, as well as the stories of the master artisans and the architect who worked on this station.

For an hour or so, I feel as if I’m transported to another era, as if I’m in New York before my own time and before all my own troubles. On this fine June evening, I’ve made my great escape and I’m existing in a slip of the past, a whisper amidst the storm.

When we’re done, I thank the docent and we head aboveground.

“That was amazing,” I say, practically bouncing. “I’m almost ashamed I’ve lived here so long and I haven’t done that.”

“Don’t be ashamed. Be glad you did it. I think there are so many things right in front of us that we don’t do. We don’t always take advantage of what we have. I try as much as I can, but you can’t get to everything.”

“Do you try because a great idea for work might come from doing something unexpected?”

He shakes his head vigorously. “I suppose it’s a welcome by-product if it happens, but no. I like new experiences in and of themselves. I like learning for learning’s sake. I do it for that reason, whether it has an obvious benefit or not.”

There he goes again, amassing points he isn’t even trying to earn as he stimulates my mind with his thirst for knowledge. He’s everything I like, and exactly what I must avoid.

He’s a risk I can’t take.

But he’d be a risk no matter what. Even if it wasn’t a conflict of interest to date him, it would be a hell of a conflict to my wounded heart. I already like Flynn Parker too much for my own good. I can only imagine how much it would hurt when he left me.

Because he would. We’d date, and laugh, and screw, and talk, and visit all the hidden spots in New York.

Then he’d leave.

He’d be done.

He’d break my heart.

“By the way,” he says, “do you know there are several other abandoned subway stops around the city? You can see some of them when you ride the train if you know where to look.”

“I’d love to see them,” I say wistfully, hoping I’ll do as he suggests, hoping I’ll take advantage of everything that’s truly in front of me.

I’ll be doing it alone, but I’ll do it. I want to experience all that the city has to offer. Now that I’ve ditched the dress, it’s time to immerse myself in living again, experiencing things anew.