or, The Greatest Thing To Not Happen To Me?
or, The Thing That Did Not Happen, But Had It, Would Have Been the Greatest Thing To Ever Happen To Me?
Since relocating to New York in 2004, I’ve always lived in the same apartment in Hell’s Kitchen/Theater District/Columbus Circle. Sachin and I have lived there together since we moved in, and a trio of Roommate #3′s has rotated through our third bedroom during our three-year run. Its been a fun few years living there, and I have a certain attachment to it – other than the two houses I grew up in, this is the longest I’ve ever lived under any one roof.
But like all good things, our time at this apartment is drawing to an end. Sachin and Nikhil (Roommate-#3 #3) have both moved on to different phases in their lives (the “Its easier to move than to try to convince Amish to do the dishes” and “There is absolutely no way I can continue sharing a bathroom with Amish” phases, respectively). Despite the fact that our lease runs until August 31, the two of them jumped the gun on their living arrangements and are moving out in the next couple weeks – Sachin to his sister’s old studio, and Nikhil to another apartment with a college friend – leaving me behind to serve out the last couple months of our lease. Obviously, they’ve looked for subletters to fulfill their rent obligations, and for the last week or so they’ve invited craigslist recruits over to check out the place.
Last Wednesday, Nikhil came home from work and told me that his only lead so far was coming by later to check out the place. “It’s a girl,” he added, “and I think she might be hot.” He went on to explain that he only knew her first name, but that it was really unique, and he had Googled it earlier that day (“to find out its origins”). A Wikipedia entry describing a former international print model now working in finance/entertainment in New York came up as the first result, and parts of the description seemed to match what she had told Nikhil about herself. As we waited for her to show up, he showed me the Wikipedia entry and (obviously) the results from Google Image Search. Needless to say, I was very, very excited.
Shortly thereafter, our doorman buzzed our apartment to let us know we had a visitor. He sent her up, and after what seemed like an eternity of anticipation, she knocked on the door and we let her in. It was hard to tell whether she was the model from the Wikipedia entry – her outfit seemed less I’m-a-model and more I’m-apartment-hunting-on-a-Wednesday-night – but she was nonetheless beautiful. Tall, slender, blonde, nice…teet…h. Nice teeth. Actually, her smile was stunning. And the best part… she had an Australian accent.
Yes, a hot, Australian blonde was checking out our apartment and potentially signing up to be my roommate! Remember in Friends when Chandler moves out to live with Monica, and Janine, the hot, Australian blonde played by Elle McPherson, moves in with Joey? THIS WAS EXACTLY LIKE THAT. My mind was spinning with visions of the two of us dating, and one day her telling me my friends were annoying, and unlike Joey (who broke up with Janine when faced with this situation), me telling her “I absolutely agree, they are annoying. Let’s go make babies that have your good looks and my disloyalty.”
Sadly, the one thing that confirmed that she was, in fact, the same girl from the Wikipedia entry was the one thing that ended up being the dealbreaker. As we wrapped up the tour of the apartment, she remembered one more extremely important question.
“Will I able to keep my dog here?”
As she spoke, she motioned toward the bag slung over her shoulder, where a tiny black toy poodle sat quietly with his head poking out. We had not noticed him at all in the 10 minutes she had been there because – to be perfectly honest – we were too busy looking at other things. But there he was – the exact dog (size, description, name) mentioned in her Wikipedia entry. So it definitely was her.
The dog was cute as a button, and I wanted so badly for her to move in. I would pretend her name was Claire, would call the dog Aaron, and ask her to refer to me as Chah-lie. I would shower her with attention and help her take care of her dog, and she would give me absolutely zero physical reward.
(BTW, I’m only through the 6th episode of Season 3 of Lost, so if the Charlie/Claire/Aaron situation has changed, don’t tell me. I’m going by what I’ve seen so far.)
(And now, not only am I making TV references, I’m disclaiming them. Crikey, I’m a dork.)
Anyway, we chatted with her about the dog for a little bit, telling her that though we did not have a problem with it, we weren’t quite sure what the rules in our building were. The fact that we don’t frequently see any other animals in the building seemed to cast doubt on its permissibility. She said she’d check with the doorman on her way out, and would be in touch. We shook hands (yes, they were nice and soft) and said our goodbyes.
As soon as we heard the elevator closed and knew she was out of earshot, Nikhil and I burst out in exclamation about how really, really ridiculously good looking she was. It was one of those exchanges where we both just said “DUDE!” back and forth to each other, with “She was hot”-”She was mad hot”-”Holler at your boy!”-”That was unreal” being implicit.
The excitement was short-lived, however, as we faced the fact that pets might not be allowed in our building. Nikhil couldn’t take the uncertainty any longer, and went down to ask the doorman himself, hoping his only lead hadn’t just fallen through. He came back with bad news. No pets allowed. Back to square one.
We sat there for ten minutes, trying to digest everything that had just happened – and not happened. Finally, I broke the silence.
“I don’t know who’s more disappointed about this. You, or me.”
