I have only lived alone once, and it was not by choice. When I was a senior in college, my boyfriend broke up with me over the phone from San Diego, saddling me with a lovely studio apartment with an eat-in kitchen, lots of sun, and a rent payment that I couldn’t really afford. I paid my rent using a loan that I am still most likely paying off, and spent a lot of that long winter marooned on my bed eating frozen grapes and watching the Food Network, since I refused to cancel the expensive cable. I lived there for the whole year, alone, but was too sulky to appreciate what I had.
After an entire young-adulthood spent in shared city townhomes with shared kitchens in which to blame messes on other people, you will move into your own apartment. Here are the things you learn, ever so abruptly.
Mike: Nicole, earlier this week, Ester wrote about what's it worth for us to live alone. You and I live alone in our respective cities. Want to talk about how that happened?
Jumping off from my previous WWYD column, I woke up this morning to find a bunch of messages on Twitter from some fine folks discussing what percentage of their income they spend on rent.
Normals are prioritizing their alone time, regardless of the cost.