Moving can be stressful, as we all know, and throw living with complete strangers into the mix… well, yeah, it’s stressful, because with the latter, it may not be up to you where you’re going to end up.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, my roommate at the time politely asked me to move out. It was fine, and there were no hard feelings, but still, things were about to change and I was very nervous it may not be for the better. But, I kept my head up. And, per usual, I went into planning mode, treating this upheaval sort of like the job search.
It’s all about utilizing time and looking at it as a numbers game. As soon as I ended that chat with my roommate about uncoupling, the first thing I did was get on the computer. I went to CraigsList to see what was available in my area and price range, sending out five email inquiries (that’s all there were that fit the bill), introducing myself and asking if the room was still available.
The next day I received a response, and thought to myself, “Please be the two girls in their thirties. Please be the two girls in their thirties.”
And, it was. Phew.
Oh, that’s the other thing, most ads for shares are something like, “We’re two girls in our 20s, we work in fashion, we like to work hard and play hard on the weekends. Are you like us?”
The funny thing is, the ad placed by the two girls in their thirties didn’t have any photos of the apartment. For me, that’s great. It cuts out the competition, which there is, apartments go fast. Some people won’t even bother inquiring if they can’t see what the apartment looks like beforehand.
It’s really just a place to sleep, eat and keep my stuff, when I’m not working. I mean, I’m friendly… but, this isn’t a sorority.
Which, is pretty much what I said during my lil’ interview.
**Commercial Break/Side Note: If you’ve never been on an apartment interview, they do exist, and they can range. I went on one in lower Manhattan and I was asked slightly odd questions like what my parents did for a living. Are my parents moving in here, too? I left that interview and didn’t look back, I was not interested.**
OK, back to the story at hand… we will resume regular programming… I had reached out on Thursday (sending out an email about a space available in apartment), received an email response on Friday, and then Monday after work I headed over for a pow-wow.
We met, laughed, and then went through some Qs like, “How old are you?” “Why do you want to live here versus a one-bedroom?” “Do you have a boyfriend, we don’t want a fourth roommate?”
I answered how old I was, and explained, sure, on paper, it might be like why would a 30-something, working at dream job want to do a share, but a one-bedroom in this area is about $2000 a month. I don’t have that kind of moola and if I did, I don’t want to give it away to a landlord. And, no, I don’t have a boyfriend, see post on ‘The 7 Stages of Being Ghosted.’ Hehe, insert awkward laugh here.
Apparently I received a Gold Star because the next day I received an email saying I made the cut. Damn, I ace these roommate interviews, I mean, yes, I’m paying them… in a job-o interview, they’re paying me.
To be honest, it was all very fast. I accepted the offer, but for an entire month leading up to it I was weighed down by the anticipation, “Am I doing the right thing? I’m returning to a town I haven’t lived in in six years. Am I going to die alone there!!” I admit, the self-doubt was getting the best of me.
But, as soon as I got there, I felt surprisingly comfortable and comforted. I realized it was best the decision I had made in a long time. I followed my gut.
The girls are really nice, we look out for each other (not that it’s needed, but if called for), and the rent is on the cheap side. Living below my means, cutting down on costs, allows me to pursue my passions and not be beholden to the Golden Handcuffs (didn’t mean to rhyme, there).
Where does the “halfway house” come in, you ask? Oh, I buried the lead! So, my one roommate has lived in the apartment for six years, the other about four, and all of the other girls who have lived in the apartment and subsequently moved out, moved for… wait for it, wait for it… love.
They moved in with their BF or husband-to-be or whatever. It was like they went from singledom, moved into this apartment, the halfway mark, and then partnered up.
But, let’s call a spade a spade, I had just moved in. Each day brought something new and it was light and fun, but I’m not the kind of girl to sit in a tower waiting for Prince Charming to ride up.
I mean, I do sit on “the veranda,” the tiny balcony on the front of the building, sipping on wine. But, that’s just a hobby.
So, while I do consider my living arrangement a sort of halfway house for single women, if I want to move on to the next phase in my life — whatever it may be — it’s not gonna be a waiting game, it’s gotta be done, purposefully.
For now, I’m happy where I am. We shall see what the future brings. Fingers crossed it’s just not…
Note: Out of respect for my roommates’ privacy, I did not use a photo of the front of our apartment with the street number on it. The photo in this picture is a snap I took while exploring NYC… and 13 is my favorite number.
Until next time – ta!