Except unlike last time I wouldn't be
trucking all over questionable neighborhoods in search of a temporary
sublet. I finally had a real person job and I was not staying a
minute longer in the Shwick. I had found a roommate in my coworker's
friend moving up from Atlanta and since GF was a real estate broker
he was going to find us a place. And the place we were
looking—Manhattan. I was tired of spending my life on the subway
and it taking forever to get anywhere. I hadn't moved to New York to
live in a shitty neighborhood in Brooklyn and even though I still
couldn't really afford it, I was willing to make sacrifices. Our
price range was just on the cusp of being able to live anywhere
decent in this magical borough besides Spanish Harlem, which quite
frankly was not going to be happening. So I knew the places we would
be looking would be far from luxurious and had prepared myself for
some real dumps. Good thing I had because the first couple we saw
certainly were. I arrived to meet GF and the new roommate on St.
Marks and was extremely pleased with the location since Criff Dog/PDT
were directly across the street. We walked up a tiny, dark stairwell
and arrived at the “apartment”. The living area/kitchen were so
small that the loveseat barely fit in it. The bedroom door had
shutters that some people put on closets. And how appropriate, as
that was about the size of them. New Roommate and I peered in to one
halfheartedly, where one of the guys' girlfriends lay sleeping in the
twin bed wedged into the room. “Good Morning” I whispered before
we realized that there was nothing else to see besides the airplane
bathroom. We saw ourselves out without commenting.
GF led us to the next place, which was
a few streets over. This was an open house and there were already
people in line. After a few minutes the realtor walked up and I
chuckled to myself since he looked like a complete douche. And we all
looked at each other in horror when he opened his mouth and had the
worst lisp I have ever heard-- “You guyth are here for the open
houthe?”. We thertainly are.
The group of us were led inside the
“apartment” and could all barely fit in at once. The place was a
bit bigger than the last one but the girls that lived there must have
been raised in a barnyard since there was shit everywhere and they
clearly hadn't cleaned in months. The “apartment” may have been
doable if it weren't for the patio off the back of apartment. It was
shared—meaning it was a shared party space since it was littered
with beer bottles. It was off one of the bedroom windows and I knew
immediately that we could not live there because I would definitely
murder a drunk NYU student one night.
We were all feeling a little dejected
after those two holes but luckily the third was a pleasant surprise.
It was in Alphabet City and the building had some cool architectural
details, like a gargoyle out front and marble stairs. One of the guys
who lived in the apartment led us up. He was hot as shit and had an
adorable mini-greyhound so I already liked the place. Confirmed once
we walked in—exposed brick walls and actual normal sized bedrooms
at opposite ends of the apartment from each other. Plenty of windows,
tall ceilings and all in walking distance from plenty of bars. We
were sold. As soon as we left we made arrangements to try and get the
application in but figured we should at least go look at the next two
places we had scheduled in the Lower East Side. The next was in a
great area but on a busy street and was a 6th floor
walk-up. The apartment was just as nice as the one we wanted but it
was also way more expensive so we ruled it out. The next one was
absolutely laughable and looked like it was probably a crack den not
too long ago.
With that settled we headed up to GF's
office to fill out the application and some other paperwork. On the
way there I had a sneaking suspicion that I may see Mason, since he
worked with GF and I knew he went in on the weekends. Aaaand I was
correct—GF turned to give me a horrified look as soon as he walked
through the door and saw him at his desk. I silently thanked God that
I had sent that email and walked over to say hello. He gave me a hug
and we talked awkwardly for a few minutes. With that over with, I
went to fill out some paperwork for my big girl apartment, then went
and had celebratory bloody marys with my new roommate in Murray Hill,
where we witnessed a bar fight.
I decided since I was going to be
making the big move into Manhattan, I might as well try and go out in
Williamsburg as much as I could, so that night I had a birthday party
scheduled for one of Polish Princess's friends at a new bar there.
This plan was quickly revised after the night. The bar was in a
ghetto ass part of Williamsburg off the JZ train (they don't call it
that for nothing) with no other bars around. The party was filled
with hipsters with a bad attitude (generally goes without saying) and
since PP and her crew are so tight I felt a bit awkward. Or maybe it
was because after the past couple weekends, I had decided to cut back
on my drinking. Either way I didn't stay too long and was happy that
I was going to be putting Brooklyn behind me.
The next day I woke up feeling
refreshed and ready to take on my day. It's amazing what not being
hungover will do for you. I got ready and headed back into the city,
to take care of some more paperwork for the new apartment. It was a
nice day so I decided that this was going to be my first bare legs
day of the year, despite how pale they were. I really went for and
wore one of my shortest skirts. Bad move. The men of New York must
have had a long winter. I could feel myself being leered at and I was
hollered at more than a few times. And never by decent looking people
but but by bodega staff, sanitation workers, and questionably
homeless people. I felt like I was revealing too much in an Arab
country and was a bit scared for my well-being.
I made a pitstop on the way to GF's
office and met Yahtzee for lunch. After wandering all over the East
Village, we finally settled on Criff Dog. I did not mind one bit as I
was pleased to have a male escort. I then headed up to Grand Central
to sign the paperwork. After enduring the always-crowded 4,5,6 where
I had a guy's dick literally pressed against my butt I emerged from
the subway pretty pissed off. Luckily GF was down to grab a drank
after the signing so we headed to a nearby patio bar, which was for
some reason, almost completely empty, besides a group of old people
eating dinner. I had plans with High School for the evening, whom I
hadn't seen in forever. He met us there and we all chatted before GF
departed and the two of us headed back down to the East Village. Our
plan was to go to the Ninth Ward but the patio was all filled, as was
every other one in the entire neighborhood. We wandered all over (my
second time that day) until we finally ended up at a German beer
garden a few blocks from my new apartment. There was no space outside
so we decided we had to settle for inside at the bar. A few steins
later and I was chatting with the German bartender. He refilled our
steins and we stayed much later than we should have, chatting and
cracking up about who knows what. He had still never mentioned his
girlfriend to me, who I knew existed. He even received a text from
her while we were looking at something on his phone which he
immediately ignored. I say nothing, he says nothing and nothing ever
happens with us, which is just the way I like it. After I took the L
back to the Shwick and was pleased that it was one of my last
weekends having to do so.
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