Yesterday I paid my deposit on my new apartment! My very own place. No roommates! Hooray!!! The decision made me nervous because it will cost me an extra $150 a month. But I realized that if I moved, I wouldn't have to spend 45 minutes on the subway to go anywhere. Now, it's a 10 minute ride on a big, clean, comfy bus through the Lincoln Tunnel, which drops off at the Port Authority. From there, it's only one subway stop to my work. And one stop the other direction to my school. Saving myself the anxiety of the train is well worth the money. And then there is the comfort of living in my own space, and not feeling like a visitor. And living on a quiet and cute street with an awesome Manhattan view, no corner drug dealers. And no drunk men taking a wizz on the house! (Last week a man peed in the street right in front of me and a friend while we sat on the stoop. He apologized and said it was an emergency.)
Ah, here is the dilemma....am I still Celibate in the CITY? I think, yes. I work in the city, I socialize in the city, I pay city taxes and claim state residency. My new home happens to be on the other side of the Hudson. (Literally, it's the first stop outside the tunnel.) Most importantly, I still plan on dating in the city. The man I date lives in Brooklyn. And I have a list of stories from the last 3 years of city dating that I have yet to write.
The money difference worried me. I'm not very practical, to put it mildly. I'm not very good with money because I really don't care about it. Knowing this about myself, I asked everyone I know who has practical skills and money skills. When I told my friend I wanted his opinion because he is so practical, he said he really wasn't very practical. So I qualified it and said he is more practical than I am. He said,"Yes, but everyone is more practical than you are." True. But it didn't discount his opinion. My mother is the most practical and safest person I know. When I mentioned the apartment to her she almost started shouting, "Yay! Yes, move! Move! Move!" She offered to help, even to fly up here to help me with it.
My sister told me she was excited about my moving. I told the man what she said and he replied, "We're all excited about your moving." He hates where I live. It scares him. Only 3 neighborhoods in the city scare him, mine is one of them. Despite his academic geekiness, he is also a bit of a bada**. He got in a bar fight with UN soldiers in Israel, he's in the Army reserve, and he knows how to take care of himself on the street. Very few things scare him. But, he won't let me go home alone if it's after 1 am. He's wanted me to move for a long time and started sending me apartment listings in January. Awhile ago, I told him about something that happened to me here, he got upset and said, "You have to get the f*** out of that neighborhood!" It was very sexy. (Men, women love when you act tough and protective over them.)
Have I failed by leaving New York City proper? Yes. But, I don't think I care. I have not been healthy or happy here. Maybe when I get my emotions in order and make more money, I can move back. Or when my sugar daddy buys me a flat in Chelsea. Whichever comes first. What I expect to miss most is the corner deli. Open 24 hours, anything you might need in the middle of the night. I often sneak out to buy a pint of Ben and Jerry's at 1 am. The clerks all know me as the Diet Coke girl. So if I'm short a buck they tell me to pay them tomorrow. And, they have increased their stock of Diet Coke.
I move the 30th of April. My life will become less interesting, which is probably a good thing. I also plan to get a new hairdo. I'm thinking big with peroxide stripes. Anyone know where I can buy some big earrings? Blue eye shadow isn't hard to find. Maybe when I complete the Jersey girl transformation, Harrison Ford will rescue me from my cheating fiancee and help me start a career in the corporate world. A girl can dream, can't she?
