OK H Street. I'll admit defeat. You got me…read more
When someone first brought up the "H Street Corridor" to me, I rolled my eyes. This drunk little yuppie doesn't do H Street, no matter how revitalized it may claim to be. Or I should say "didn't". Because I do now.
Oh, I resisted! After all, there is no metro stop nearby, and I've learned my lesson with my hot but brief love affair with Georgetown, all those moonlight nights ago...this girl should not tread where Metro will not venture. And there is your reputation for being a bad boy. Sure, everyone claims that you have reformed, but like Danny Zucco, you may put on a letterman's jacket to woo your beloved Sandy, but at the end, you are and would forever be a T-Bird.
But then...it was as if the fates compelled us to meet. First it was the Yelp event at H St Country Club. It was cute, fun, and worthy of a bookmark to revisit. Then I found out that a friend of a friend owns/runs/manages The Pug, which is uber adorable to boot (and she swears that H Street isn't as sketchy as it seems. *snort*). Then, the Palace of Wonders sang it's siren song and made me a loyal fan.
So yes, you got me H Street. You wooed me with your charms and hidden delights. Gently, quietly, carefully you lulled me into being so comfortable that I just naturally turn to you. Like a rom-com, I fell in love with you without realizing it.
I resist embracing this relationship wholeheartedly. I've been burned too many times by bad-boy neighborhoods...loving the thrill, but hating the inconsistancies of our moments together. I'm too old, too hardened, too jaded to love quite so blindly. But you, H Street, with your rough charms, and sparkling dark allure have gotten past my barriers. So I will love you, but slowly and cautiously. Don't let me down H Street. Don't break my heart. Don't break my heart.