The Hunt

A constant search. It’s just the way life seems to be right now-specifically for an apartment, and lower on the list but still on my mind, a man. As of today, no luck with either.

The apartment exploration is quickly proving to be a nightmare. “Good luck finding a place!” one of the landlords said to me, making me rethink exactly how exhausting this may turn out to be. Everywhere I have called has a roadblock. After combing through the News-Gazette, I made up a list of apartments I could afford, and began dialing them one by one. There was a perfect place that was snatched up by some Chicago chick. Then there was a good place in the old part of Savoy-gone already. Another place didn’t allow a pet. Another does-as he put is, “especially a beagle, because I have one of my own”, but is smack in the middle of campus which is not really where I see myself. My ideal place is renting part of an old Victorian house close to downtown. The neighborhood I’ve been eyeing is only a couple blocks from all the cafes, bars, and cute little shops. There is huge park nearby that would be perfect for walking Lucy. I envision my whole life revolving around the simple schedule of work, meandering through the park with my puppy, and strolling down the sidewalk to Sam’s or Café Kopi for a quick bite to eat. The weekends would be spent at the old bookshops, buying peonies at Rick Orr’s and records at Exile on Main, and finding all things lovely and vintage at Carrie’s. In this scenario, I am usually wearing a sundress and sandals with heels (I am also shorter…), Lucy has a skinny red leash, it is sunny, and I am always happy. It may also be the 1940s. Most of this would not happen. It’s a nice thought, though.

The guy situation is less dire but also improbable. It struck me recently that I have been officially single for six months, and this somehow worried me. I don’t have expectations of finding the love of my life anytime soon, although it’d be nice to get that out of the way. But had you asked me six months ago where I would be today, a boyfriend would have been a natural part of the picture. Although I could have had one at some points during that time, it would have been with someone that had little in common with me besides wanting to be with someone rather than be alone.

I’ve been amazed at how strong this need is in people-myself and everyone around me. A news anchor on the Today show did everything but give out his number this morning. Another show had a guy bemoaning not having a valentine this year. Guys are as obsessed with needing a girl as girls are about guys! Though I thankfully have some plans for a night out this Saturday, there’s a part of me and probably the girl(s) I’ll be with that would love to have had a guy surprise her with a bunched-up bouquet and a dinner invitation. Every Valentine’s gift, no matter from whom, becomes a trophy, whether sitting on a desk for everyone to see or tucked away in a bedroom. A guy friend recently asked me what a girl would want for Valentine’s day. “A date!”, I told him. I went on to say that if the girl was anything like me, she wouldn’t turn down a hand-written letter and a present from Tiffany’s. The Tiffany gift may not be so practical, but any guy could write a note if he cared enough. My future guy will have to do that much for me.

This is the state of things. I am thinking of a fictional, beautiful apartment which holds a fictional, gorgeous man. Sometimes the things I want make me laugh at myself.