I go on a lot of
dates; first dates, second dates, blind dates, online dates, but this Thursday
could be one of the most important. I’ve
never met him before, but I’m hoping by the end he’ll ask me to move in.
I’ve been house-hunting
since I got here – deciding between living alone, living with expats or living
with locals. (Can’t find any locals advertising rooms for rent [in English, ha!]
so that’s now ex-ed out!) After being in
my own place for eight and half years with no one but a pint sized kitty to answer
to, it’s kind of a big deal. I never saw myself having roommates again, but I
never saw myself leaving Connecticut either.
Since last week, I’ve
seen all kinds of places; units in tall, shiny buildings with doormen, shuttle service,
and rooftop infinity pools; house shares in traditional old homes with a high-turnover
and backpacker vibe; soulless studios in residential hotels and promising
one-bedrooms all modern and clean. It’s
unreal what you can get for your money here.
Luxury living in the trendiest neighborhoods with the fanciest amenities
costs just under $1,000 a month. The budget conscious can live well for about
$250. It’s almost like being back in
Buffalo, but with heat and a permanent NHL lockout.
The place I found is
different. It has character and spaciousness and a 30-something German whose
approval I need to win. It’s a gorgeous house share that I desperately want. I visited
on Saturday and clicked well with Marta, the other housemate who’s from Poland. She's now set up a ‘date’ for Flo and me on
Thurs when he’s back from a trip. If he likes me, I’m in.
Usually, no problem. I’m
pretty comfortable heading out and meeting guys. I put on a some mascara and
charm, then fend my way through a few nerves and awkward opening moments. We
grab a drink, chat for a while and figure out if there’s any chemistry. The
stakes are low – bonus if we decide on a second date.
But this is different.
I want him to like me. I need him to
like me. I want that house, that room,
that gorgeous, breezy, elevated view of the Bangkok skyline at night, that 4000
sq. ft. of space, the wrap-around balcony and en suite bathroom, the socially
minded European housemates to make experimental Thai curries with and go on trips
to Chiang Mai. I want the guest quarters
for all my visiting friends. At the end
of the night, I’m not looking for a peck on the cheek and or a questionable
promise to call me again, I’m looking for an invitation from a guy to go live
with him.
Will he like me? Will I be cool enough? I feel like I’m 14 and
waiting for the popular boy to ask me to homecoming. I could have a lot riding
on this – new friends, new experiences, the shape of my time in Bangkok.
Tomorrow night I’ll
know.
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