I always figured that the first home I bought would come packaged with a co-owning husband, a few kids, a yellow lab, and the traditional white picket fence. Well, life doesn’t always turn out the way one had imagined. And, as I am slowly learning, that is perfectly OKAY.
After many years of renting in NYC (because buying is so astronomical), I moved to Chicago with the hopes of being able to afford my own home. Well, last March I took the plunge and purchased my first condo. Let me just say, there is nothing more liberating for a single woman than to be able to own her own home. You may not yet be settled in a marriage, or have children to tend to, but every month you come face to face with your biggest commitment – your mortgage. The mortgage you work single-handedly to pay. And what I soon learned after signing on the dotted line, is that with each payment comes the added 30-year fixed bonus addition that I like to call the “joys of home-ownership.”
Like most first time buyers, after buying my condo I was financially wiped out. Pretty much flat broke. My former ING savings account was now known as my living room. Feeling overwhelmed and scared that I was taking on this huge responsibility solo, I told myself, “Well, at least I have a roof over my head and a hot shower!” Oh, wait, NOPE. My first shower in my new place was luke warm. My second, a bit colder. By my third, I was showering with the Eskimos. In an attempt to figure out what was going on, I called the building manager to ask if there were any other reported water temperature problems in related units. Her response, “No.” So, on my second day in my brand new home, I had to find a plumber. Overly desperate for a hot shower, I decided to just use my building’s plumbing company, which of course was twice as expensive. After hours of evaluation, the plumber told me that three temperature gauges were shot and had been for weeks. Apparently, somewhere in between the time of my housing inspection and my closing, the temperature gauges in the shower handle blew. Here is the kicker! My former owner knew these gauges were broken and did not tell me! Knock, Knock, Knock, my first official house warming present, a $1,490 bill from Lakeview Plumbing Company. Welcome Home Sista-Friend!
One by one, the joyous moments kept coming. A month later I am sitting on the couch watching Project Runway when I hear an alarming BANG come from the bathroom. I go in to find the side of my bathtub lying on the floor. F---! I attempted to insert the fallen side back into place, only to have it fall out a repeated five, six, seven more times. I finally couldn’t take it anymore. Without thinking, I kicked the damn side of the tub so hard I almost broke my ankle. (I could hear my mother's voice saying, "Smooth move ya dope.") Anyway, being the crafty (or not so crafty) “Miss Fix It” I am, I eventually decided to wedge a nearby cabinet up against the tub’s side until I could further deal with it. Now, ten months later, let’s not move that cabinet just yet...
The summer brought on a whole other set of surprises. First, it was air conditioning issues. For all of June I walked around my apartment like “Ugly-Naked Girl” in a 24/7 hot yoga class until I figured out that my filtering units were clogged. In July, my dishwasher decided to just fall out of its unit, followed by my kitchen sink having a massive leak. Then, one morning I woke up with a vision. An unstoppable vision. I was going to paint my bedroom.
All I can say is, “What in God’s name was I thinking?” The era of my life where I decided to paint my bedroom, was to date the only time I actually contemplated jumping out of my fifty-first story window (Or at least strangling myself with blue painters tape). Five trips to Home Depot, six paint color changes, two trips to the hospital for chemical inhalation poisoning, and three weeks of my life I’ll never get back ~ AND VOILA, I present to you a half painted cloud blue room!! I am embarrassed to say it still remains that way. I will NEVER EVER attempt to paint a room by myself again. Never. And, I am personally going to get that in writing. I seriously applaud all of you who can successfully paint a room and enjoy it. BRAVO!
I think my most favorite tale though of being a single woman homeowner comes from my experience (or inexperience) in dealing with electronics. In the past, everything from programming my blackberry, to working my digital camera has always seemed like such a project. So, when a friend here convinced me to buy a large plasma TV, I felt a bit overwhelmed. But...there I found myself one Sunday afternoon at Best Buy on a mission for the perfect television.
So here it goes, $3,500 poorer, and two techie-dorks from the Geek Squad richer, mission completed. It’s Showtime! There is banging, leveling, and cords everywhere. Not to mention two very LARGE holes in my wall where the TV is going to rest. When the television is finally mounted, it looks a bit “tilted” to the right (as I observe with a slightly bent neck). Geek #1 says that is the way it is supposed to be because the floor is uneven. There is also a large power cord hanging from below the TV. Geek #2 says that cord is supposed to hang down and what I need to do is jimmy-rig it to the wall and paint over it. I am so not the "jimmy-rigging" kind of girl, but not knowing any better, I took their word for it.
Several months later a few guy friends are over and proceed to tell me that the people who mounted my TV were lazy-asses and never pushed the power cord through the back of the wall. I felt scammed, exhausted, and royally pissed off. I just wished that I had a man to deal with this crap. (I know that sounds more than pathetic, but at the time I really felt that way). Anyway, I called Best Buy to kindly ask them to come back out to fix it, and they said it would cost me at least another grand. My response, “No thanks. I’ll deal with it.”
And that is just it. As with everything in life, single or not, you just sometimes have to deal with it. Rarely are situations ever perfect. Whether you have an on-call handyman or a library full of “Fix It” and "Dummies" books, there are no easy answers to everything. In the end, and in my attempt to find all the positives in this journey of homeowning, I have to first say that I feel very lucky to have the opportunity to own my own home. And, what I am realizing is that all the little “joys” are only short-term annoyances, not to mention totally fixable. Then, I hear my mother's voice again... she says, "You have to remember, it is all those little unique tilts, cracks, and leaks that make a house, a home."
Copyright jk/ssg'08
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Friday, January 11, 2008
Blind Dating vs. Chinese Water Torture
Back in my 20’s while living in NYC, a very close family member had set me up on a blind date with an attorney who worked at a prestigious law firm downtown. On paper he was perfect. He was 29, attended Georgetown undergrad and received his law degree from Columbia. It appeared that he was already well established, seeing as he owned an amazing loft in the Meatpacking District, and a summer cottage in the Hamptons. We had spoken several times on the phone before meeting one night at a lovely little restaurant in the East Village called the Miracle Grill. He told me he would be wearing a blue pinstriped suit and had short brown hair. And, of course as with any date, I kept my fingers crossed that maybe this one had potential.
Upon arriving at the restaurant I checked my coat and looked around for “my date.” There was nobody at the bar. The restaurant was quiet. I then felt this tiny tap on my shoulder. I turned around to find a man, a very little man (probably about 4’8) staring up at me. HE was wearing a blue pinstriped suit. HE had short brown hair (with the comb-over). Yup, it was “my date.” Figures.
As he asked if it was me, I couldn’t respond. All I could think of, was I in Oz? Or, did Tattoo come back to take me on “De Plane” to Fantasy Island? Overall, putting aside the major height difference ~ (I am about 5’7), the date was a complete disaster. He presented with serious Napoleon’s Complex. He was beyond arrogant and proceeded to boss around the waitstaff the entire evening. As a former waitress myself, I was utterly humiliated and couldn’t wait for the evening to end. Finally, around eleven o’clock he paid the bill and we parted ways. On the way home in the cab I found myself frustrated and almost in tears thinking: Blind dating? Or Chinese water torture? Is there really a difference?
In today’s world of internet dating, or unless you were married before the age of twenty-five, about ninety percent of the female population will at some point experience the blind date. I’ve heard stories of all contents:
He was cross-eyed and wore a fanny pack.
He lived with ten cats.
He just “forgot his wallet.”
He asked you how much you paid in rent (A very common conversation in NYC).
He showed up three sheets to the wind (or you did).
He had a problem controlling his flatulence.
He didn’t believe in cable (HELLO!!).
He was married, but it was okay, because he and his wife had an “open” relationship.
He just wanted to get laid. Or, to be completely fair to the man, perhaps you did too.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
Putting aside all unfortunate blind date experiences, we need to look at blind dating in another manner. First of all, we have to realize that as we single women get older, our inner dating pool begins to shrink. Not only do we know all our friends, but we begin to know all our friend’s friends. And unless you have already been paired off, you need to open up your peripheral vision and look outside the box. You need to consider alternative circles. Although difficult and yes, sometimes painful, I do believe one of the greatest ways to begin this extension is through blind dating.
Last year I moved to Chicago without knowing a soul. Having never done online dating before, I decided to sign up on eHarmony as a means of meeting people in my new city. Within a six-month period, I probably went on over forty dates. I’m not going to lie, it was grueling at times. It just seemed like one bomb after another, but there was ONE. His name was Sam and he gave me a reason to believe in blind dating.
Sam was ten years older than me, recently divorced, and had two young children. At that point in my life, those were three things I would have never considered getting involved with. I felt that at age thirty-one, I could still find someone closer in age, who had never been married, and without children yet, like myself. Well, as apprehensive as I was, on a snowy, blizzard-like afternoon in Chicago, we both randomly decided to skip work one day and meet at a nearby coffee shop.
That afternoon, when arriving at the coffee shop, I brushed the snow out of my wind-blown hair, and pulled my knit hat up from over my eyes. It was at that moment, I saw this amazing, beautiful man smiling at me from the back of the room. With his intoxicating grin and gorgeous blue eyes, this stranger came over to greet me with the warmest bear hug anyone could imagine. And well, in the words of Jerry McGuire’s Dorothy Boyd, “He had me at hello.”
The afternoon of coffee, lead to an evening of sushi and wine, and to the most amazing goodbye kiss I had ever experienced with a man I hardly knew. HE was different. HE allowed me to forget about all the crappy relationships and blind dates I had ever had. Our little romance only lasted a few weeks, but what I took away from that experience was life changing. I was able to believe in the possibility of random encounters and that things really do happen “when you least expect it.”
We have to remember that dating is a numbers game and the only way we are going to win is to get out there! Whether it be meeting people through friends, at work, or online, we have to up our numbers. And blind dating is just one of the many ways we can do that. No matter how torturous the anticipation of a blind date may be (or the date itself), like Chinese water torture, the dripping of the water may feel at the moment like it is driving you insane, but after the dripping has stopped, it leaves no external scars. If it doesn’t workout, all you can gain is the experience of meeting someone new and possibly a great story.
AND, there is nothing wrong with that.
(This blog was inspired by a very funny girl from Long Island – Thanks K.M.)
PLEASE send your blind date stories to me at my email: singlecitygal@gmail.com
(Copyright jk/ssg'08)
Upon arriving at the restaurant I checked my coat and looked around for “my date.” There was nobody at the bar. The restaurant was quiet. I then felt this tiny tap on my shoulder. I turned around to find a man, a very little man (probably about 4’8) staring up at me. HE was wearing a blue pinstriped suit. HE had short brown hair (with the comb-over). Yup, it was “my date.” Figures.
As he asked if it was me, I couldn’t respond. All I could think of, was I in Oz? Or, did Tattoo come back to take me on “De Plane” to Fantasy Island? Overall, putting aside the major height difference ~ (I am about 5’7), the date was a complete disaster. He presented with serious Napoleon’s Complex. He was beyond arrogant and proceeded to boss around the waitstaff the entire evening. As a former waitress myself, I was utterly humiliated and couldn’t wait for the evening to end. Finally, around eleven o’clock he paid the bill and we parted ways. On the way home in the cab I found myself frustrated and almost in tears thinking: Blind dating? Or Chinese water torture? Is there really a difference?
In today’s world of internet dating, or unless you were married before the age of twenty-five, about ninety percent of the female population will at some point experience the blind date. I’ve heard stories of all contents:
He was cross-eyed and wore a fanny pack.
He lived with ten cats.
He just “forgot his wallet.”
He asked you how much you paid in rent (A very common conversation in NYC).
He showed up three sheets to the wind (or you did).
He had a problem controlling his flatulence.
He didn’t believe in cable (HELLO!!).
He was married, but it was okay, because he and his wife had an “open” relationship.
He just wanted to get laid. Or, to be completely fair to the man, perhaps you did too.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
Putting aside all unfortunate blind date experiences, we need to look at blind dating in another manner. First of all, we have to realize that as we single women get older, our inner dating pool begins to shrink. Not only do we know all our friends, but we begin to know all our friend’s friends. And unless you have already been paired off, you need to open up your peripheral vision and look outside the box. You need to consider alternative circles. Although difficult and yes, sometimes painful, I do believe one of the greatest ways to begin this extension is through blind dating.
Last year I moved to Chicago without knowing a soul. Having never done online dating before, I decided to sign up on eHarmony as a means of meeting people in my new city. Within a six-month period, I probably went on over forty dates. I’m not going to lie, it was grueling at times. It just seemed like one bomb after another, but there was ONE. His name was Sam and he gave me a reason to believe in blind dating.
Sam was ten years older than me, recently divorced, and had two young children. At that point in my life, those were three things I would have never considered getting involved with. I felt that at age thirty-one, I could still find someone closer in age, who had never been married, and without children yet, like myself. Well, as apprehensive as I was, on a snowy, blizzard-like afternoon in Chicago, we both randomly decided to skip work one day and meet at a nearby coffee shop.
That afternoon, when arriving at the coffee shop, I brushed the snow out of my wind-blown hair, and pulled my knit hat up from over my eyes. It was at that moment, I saw this amazing, beautiful man smiling at me from the back of the room. With his intoxicating grin and gorgeous blue eyes, this stranger came over to greet me with the warmest bear hug anyone could imagine. And well, in the words of Jerry McGuire’s Dorothy Boyd, “He had me at hello.”
The afternoon of coffee, lead to an evening of sushi and wine, and to the most amazing goodbye kiss I had ever experienced with a man I hardly knew. HE was different. HE allowed me to forget about all the crappy relationships and blind dates I had ever had. Our little romance only lasted a few weeks, but what I took away from that experience was life changing. I was able to believe in the possibility of random encounters and that things really do happen “when you least expect it.”
We have to remember that dating is a numbers game and the only way we are going to win is to get out there! Whether it be meeting people through friends, at work, or online, we have to up our numbers. And blind dating is just one of the many ways we can do that. No matter how torturous the anticipation of a blind date may be (or the date itself), like Chinese water torture, the dripping of the water may feel at the moment like it is driving you insane, but after the dripping has stopped, it leaves no external scars. If it doesn’t workout, all you can gain is the experience of meeting someone new and possibly a great story.
AND, there is nothing wrong with that.
(This blog was inspired by a very funny girl from Long Island – Thanks K.M.)
PLEASE send your blind date stories to me at my email: singlecitygal@gmail.com
(Copyright jk/ssg'08)
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Enough is Enough.
Okay. Let’s lay it all out on the table.
If you’re a single girl in your 30’s, I think there comes a time for each of us where we wake up one day and ask ourselves, how the hell did we get here? The day where we say, enough is ENOUGH.
Enough of going through another week, a month, or even a year with the hope of just one date that might go somewhere.
Enough of being the token, single, drunk bridesmaid at ALL your friend’s weddings.
Enough of feeling like you could have bought a chateau in the South of France with all the money you have spent on baby showers, bridal showers, engagement parties, christenings, bachelorette parties… I could go on, and on, and on… but you get my point.
Enough of feeling sick to your stomach at family gatherings because you hope you don’t botch your much over-rehearsed response to the dreaded question YOU KNOW everyone is going to ask, “So, are you dating anyone?” (C’mon girls, how many times have you lied to Aunt Berta on any one single occasion?).
Enough of hearing it will happen when you least expect it. (That is my personal fave.)
Enough of believing that if you write to the angels it will bring you a man.
Enough of being home on a Friday night with your two best friends, Mr. Ben and Mr. Jerry.
Enough of being number 3, 5, 7, 9 at the “Couples Table”. Is there anything more depressing?
And even worse, enough of being placed at the “Singles Table”. At this point in our lives, the “Singles Table” is starting to look like a bunch of mutants. All our friends think they are doing us a BIG favor by putting us at THAT table, but if truth be told, it makes us feel worse then already being there alone. And yes, it probably further aids the drunkness.
Enough of never being invited with a date to anything (or if you are, having no one to bring – C’mon you’re more pissed off about that!).
Enough of being the dumpee. For once YOU want to be the dumper!
For once you want the guy YOU like, to like you back.
Enough of making excuses for why he didn’t call.
Enough of being so stupid and accepting those lousy excuses.
Enough of being attracted to ALL the wrong men.
Enough of trying to lose weight because you think some guy (who, get with the program, doesn’t like you) will like you, if you lose a few pounds. C’mon fess up. How many times have you restarted Weight Watchers for just that reason? How many times have you wished your “Dining Out Companion” wasn’t a book telling you how many points a MacDonald’s chocolate shake will cost you?
Well, for me at least three times this year. But who’s counting?
Allow me to introduce myself. I am for all intents and purposes, Single City Gal. I am a 32 year-old single girl living in Chicago, and I am THAT GIRL. And, I have had ENOUGH. Sorry if I have come off so brutally honest, but I had to vent for all of us. I am just saying out loud what all us single girls in our 30’s are thinking. But, for me, Single City Gal, this is the end.
I have decided that as of today, THIS DAY, at this very moment things are going to change. I am no longer going to be THE drunk bridesmaid. I may still be THE single bridesmaid, but it will be by choice and I will NOT make a b-line to the bathroom at every slow dance! From this point on, if I am going to be a Weight Watchers “re-joiner” for the 10th time in one year, then it will be for no other reason then for myself! Go team WW!
From this point forward, THIS girl’s life is about discovering why HER “least expecting moment” has yet to happen. From this point forward it is about “making it work” (as Tim Gunn would say). Making it work one day at a time and exploring just who I am. Discovering all I have to offer. It is about finding answers ~ and solutions. It is about finding THAT least expecting moment! It is about finding MY least expecting moment! To quote a wise friend, the never-ending search for the Holy Male, has now turned into the search to become the coolest, Single Gal.
If you’re a single girl in your 30’s, I think there comes a time for each of us where we wake up one day and ask ourselves, how the hell did we get here? The day where we say, enough is ENOUGH.
Enough of going through another week, a month, or even a year with the hope of just one date that might go somewhere.
Enough of being the token, single, drunk bridesmaid at ALL your friend’s weddings.
Enough of feeling like you could have bought a chateau in the South of France with all the money you have spent on baby showers, bridal showers, engagement parties, christenings, bachelorette parties… I could go on, and on, and on… but you get my point.
Enough of feeling sick to your stomach at family gatherings because you hope you don’t botch your much over-rehearsed response to the dreaded question YOU KNOW everyone is going to ask, “So, are you dating anyone?” (C’mon girls, how many times have you lied to Aunt Berta on any one single occasion?).
Enough of hearing it will happen when you least expect it. (That is my personal fave.)
Enough of believing that if you write to the angels it will bring you a man.
Enough of being home on a Friday night with your two best friends, Mr. Ben and Mr. Jerry.
Enough of being number 3, 5, 7, 9 at the “Couples Table”. Is there anything more depressing?
And even worse, enough of being placed at the “Singles Table”. At this point in our lives, the “Singles Table” is starting to look like a bunch of mutants. All our friends think they are doing us a BIG favor by putting us at THAT table, but if truth be told, it makes us feel worse then already being there alone. And yes, it probably further aids the drunkness.
Enough of never being invited with a date to anything (or if you are, having no one to bring – C’mon you’re more pissed off about that!).
Enough of being the dumpee. For once YOU want to be the dumper!
For once you want the guy YOU like, to like you back.
Enough of making excuses for why he didn’t call.
Enough of being so stupid and accepting those lousy excuses.
Enough of being attracted to ALL the wrong men.
Enough of trying to lose weight because you think some guy (who, get with the program, doesn’t like you) will like you, if you lose a few pounds. C’mon fess up. How many times have you restarted Weight Watchers for just that reason? How many times have you wished your “Dining Out Companion” wasn’t a book telling you how many points a MacDonald’s chocolate shake will cost you?
Well, for me at least three times this year. But who’s counting?
Allow me to introduce myself. I am for all intents and purposes, Single City Gal. I am a 32 year-old single girl living in Chicago, and I am THAT GIRL. And, I have had ENOUGH. Sorry if I have come off so brutally honest, but I had to vent for all of us. I am just saying out loud what all us single girls in our 30’s are thinking. But, for me, Single City Gal, this is the end.
I have decided that as of today, THIS DAY, at this very moment things are going to change. I am no longer going to be THE drunk bridesmaid. I may still be THE single bridesmaid, but it will be by choice and I will NOT make a b-line to the bathroom at every slow dance! From this point on, if I am going to be a Weight Watchers “re-joiner” for the 10th time in one year, then it will be for no other reason then for myself! Go team WW!
From this point forward, THIS girl’s life is about discovering why HER “least expecting moment” has yet to happen. From this point forward it is about “making it work” (as Tim Gunn would say). Making it work one day at a time and exploring just who I am. Discovering all I have to offer. It is about finding answers ~ and solutions. It is about finding THAT least expecting moment! It is about finding MY least expecting moment! To quote a wise friend, the never-ending search for the Holy Male, has now turned into the search to become the coolest, Single Gal.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
