Apartment Hunting

On Saturday afternoon I went to Park Slope and walked around. It’s such a great neighborhood — especially compared to my current location, Jersey City, which really isn’t a neighborhood at all. But in Park Slope, you can walk to Prospect Park, and there are tons of restaurants and shops and beautiful brownstone buildings, and there are people walking around. Not even cruddy people, which is mostly what I see in Jersey City.

I was walking around and I was struck by an idea — I should call CanadaGirl and see if she wants to look for a place together. We’ve known each other since college, we get along well, we’re both gay, we’re both mellow, we’re both looking for a new place to live, two people can get a better apartment than one, and each of our social lives would improve. Yesterday I left my proposal on CanadaGirl’s answering machine, and I was so inspired by the idea of a gay man living with a woman in Brooklyn that I went to the Strand and bought a copy of The Object of My Affection — the book, not the movie, which I’ve seen twice.

I’ve started reading the book, and it’s terrific — even better than the movie, which I loved. It’s like sitting in a comfy chair, curled in a blanket with a cup of cocoa. Unfortunately, CanadaGirl e-mailed me this morning and said she’s about 99% committed to living alone. Maybe that 1 percent gives me something to work with. But I’m still glad I’m reading the book.

Anyway, it looks like I’ll be looking for a place alone, because she’s the only person I know right now whom I could tolerate as a roommate. Damn. Basically, I’m intimidated about the idea of looking for an apartment alone in New York. If I use a broker (which I might) I’m going to have to charge it to my credit card or something.

After leaving the Strand, I hopped on the subway at Union Square and got off near Central Park. I walked up Central Park West, and I felt a sad yearning upon seeing several young straight couples walking dogs. It’s a lifestyle I’m attracted to: a young straight guy in the city, working in the corporate world, he’s got money and a girlfriend and he goes out to bars with his friends every night. Sometimes I just want to be normal.

I want to live on the Upper West Side in a decent apartment. I want to have a job that’s not only laid back (which mine is) but also is something that I’m committed to with my soul. A job that makes me feel full and sated. I want to make more money than I do now. I want to have a dog. And part of me even wants to have a girlfriend. It’s all part of that picture of normalcy. I saw several couples walking yesterday that seemed to fit this definition, and it made me unhappy. I almost couldn’t bear the thought of going back to my Jersey City apartment and watching the Oscars alone on a Sunday night. Sunday evenings can be so depressing.

But I’m doing this in steps. First I’m going to move to NYC proper. At the same time I’m going to try to find a job in Manhattan starting in August, when my clerkship in New Jersey ends. I’m sick of New Jersey, I’m sick of the PATH trains, I’m sick of feeling inferior. I want to live a life that I love.

It will happen… in steps. But the whole apartment search — I’m intimidated. I don’t want to make another bad decision.