My love affair with New York City started out as a long-distance relationship filled with whirlwind visits, teary goodbyes and months of longing in between. As my feelings for it grew deeper, the distance became unbearable and the decision to close the geographical gap became inevitable. Once we were no longer apart, I endeavored to explore it more deeply, anxious to unearth all its secrets. I was enthralled by its charms and blind to its flaws. But alas, time is no friend to commitment. Adorable quirks began to turn into grating annoyances. Fortunately, New York City is a savvy lover: it realizes when it’s been too trying, too needy, too demanding. So it does something special to remind you how great it is. This past Saturday it pulled a little velvet box out of its pocket and gave me Summer Streets.