Apartment hunting in New York, a masochistic love fest
story of rejection

I have been looking for an apartment in NYC for a little over a month now. I have been rejected TWICE and yesterday I visited an "open house" where the ceilings were about 6'2" high. This open house in Williamsburg was like none other. My friend and I had high hopes, though our egos had been bruised after the last jarring denial we received from a cute place near Columbia. We approached the address and noticed that the door was open. When we entered there were hipsters wandering about confused. No idea who owns the place. Just people blank eyed stares and shaggy haircuts. No one was home. I have never in my whole life experienced this and I have seen plenty of apartments in my day. So, sad eyed, we went to Anytime for $1 happy hour drinks and yes, we consumed a few.

At first I found it funny. Sometimes the best laughs are from emotional, relationship-type failures. That's why college was so fun! I felt like I just got out of a dating situation with someone I really liked, or at least had some hope of a future with. I spent the week waiting for a phone call or an e-mail, something. No response, an obvious rejection. Then in a weak attempt to revive my spirits, I sleep with some loser, who also rejects me. That's how I felt with my $1 vodka tonic warming under my tired fingers. My friend and I shared some drunken laughs anyway, in a desperate but helpful attempt to distract us from the nightmare that is apartment hunting in NYC. For what it's taken out of me, it better be worth it. You hear me, New York???

(Please send me any info on apartments.)
(Pretty please!)
(please)