(pause for laughter)
I tend to take things lightly. I engage in horseplay during serious situations, and The Girlfriend can hardly stand to watch TV shows about grave topics like the massacre of the American Indian with me for fear that I will make an inappropriate joke, for which she will reprimand me.
But this time I’ve gone too far. It was pretty easy to mock the process of determining who will get my apartment when I move out, mostly because I already know where I will be living. It’s like being a rock star at a huge arena concert – I already know I’m getting an STD, it’s just a matter of “from whom?” So when I wrote yesterday about parading girls through my apartment and knocking them unconscious with a telephone, I did so with the smug reassurance of a guy who has nothing at all to lose in this situation, except a bottle of water I placed down on my desk which I think one of the girls mistook for her own when leaving. She’s not getting the apartment.
Don’t call us, we’ll call you!
(There I go again . . .)
But the truth is, when the first girl showed up and immediately said she wanted it, I first thought “TOO EASY.” Then another girl showed up, and she said she wanted it too. And another. And another. And another. Five girls in less than a half an hour, all wanting to make my apartment their home. Suddenly I’m faced with the fact that it’s left to me to basically choose which girl gets it.
Luckily, two of the girls could be easily crossed off the list for basic, non-physical feature related reasons. One had a cat, and while I think cats are allowed, I’m pretty sure if my landlord had a choice between tenant sans cat and tenant with cat, tenant sans cat is winning that one. The other one wanted to share the apartment with her sister. And when she took pictures of the apartment she left the “red eye reduction” flash on. And she sweat a lot. That’s just doing my job for me.
But here I am this morning left with three candidates, the only difference between them being the time they showed up and said “I’ll take it.” I convinced myself that I would be able to easily decide between the three based on looks, personality and heartiness of laugher at my jokes. It’s pretty much how I’ve made most important decisions in my life previous to this (hi, TG!) so why stop now? Here’s why:
Because I’ve gone through the apartment hunting process four times, and every single time I said to myself, “This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.” (And when I was eight, I put my hand through a plate glass door while chasing my sister around with a log.) And I saw the look in these girls’ eyes that says, “I’ve found it! I’m done! It’s all over, the nightmare is over! And why is this guy carrying around a telephone . . .” I just couldn’t be an arbitrary dick giving the apartment to the girl who dressed the sluttiest.* Somehow, amidst writing the Craigslist ad, conducting all the interviews and sending out all the emails, I developed a rudimentary sense of fairness.
It all came to a head this morning when I settled on my course of action: to let pure timely chance sort the whole thing out and give it to the girl who responded to the ad first. I was so flustered and wanting it all to be over that I sent her the following email:
if you definitely want the place, i see no reason why it isn't yours. like i said, the owner is away on vacation but as long as he doesn't find out something incriminating about you, like that you're a republican or that you hate puppies or something, consider yourself to have a new home.
i'll forward all this on to him with a note saying how nice you were and let you know when i hear back from him.
any more questions feel free to email.
p.s. i hope you're not a republican, otherwise that joke isn't funny.
Luckily she wasn’t, and she was overjoyed to have the apartment. Meanwhile, I’m left to write the emails to the two other girls letting them know that as of right now they stand second and third in line. If this were a reality show, like Hope commented, this would be the part where I storm off the set, ripping off my microphone and screaming, “Get that (beep) camera out of my face!” with a sharp cut to a personal shot of me looking haggard backstage saying, “I just didn’t think it was going to be this hard, you know, emotionally.”
So I’m just glad that’s over. Also, I think my home is in good hands, meaning if I ever have to move back in I could definitely intimidate / attack her and she would cave quickly. It’s a win for everyone, except everyone besides me and the girl who got the apartment.
As an endnote, guys and girls alike, if you’re ever desperate for a new way to meet members of the opposite sex, I highly recommend putting an ad up on Craigslist advertising your apartment for rent. It brings a flock of people right to your front door, gives you their email address, their telephone number and their employment information. Then all you have to do is pick the best one, email them the next day saying, “Sorry, someone else beat you to it, but I have a friend who might have an awesome place available, want to meet up with them for drinks to discuss it?” Then you just get a friend to play along saying they might have an apartment to rent, then . . . wait, where was I? Whatever, if you can’t figure out how to have sex with them after that I can’t help you.
* Coincidentally, the girl who responded to the ad first was also the one who dressed the sluttiest. So in a way, I know made the right decision.