Dreamboat Dave

Ok, I'm here, I made it! 

Now what do I do? 

I say that facetiously but only like, half facetiously. The big scary "Shit that definitely needs to be accomplished" list is so big and scary that it's imploded on itself and I now live in the illusion that I have free time. The currently check marked and completed "Find Apartment" now has a million different bullet points underneath it. Items like "cabinet for food" are amongst the bullet points. But seriously. There is so little cabinet space we have no room to store food. I guess that takes care of the food budget issue. Everything that's happened between Saturday morning at six am and right this second has been a silly whirlwind of huge successes and enormously frustrating and near tear inducing failures. (That last description only applies to Katie Vs. Cable Company. And if you've ever called the cable company then I think you can justifiably accompany me in a hearty, "fuck you!") But there is no need to dwell upon the things that have been a pain in the ass. After all, I think I should anticipate a lot of that.  AGAIN look out for Katie Does Public Transit. For now, however, I just want to talk about my first ever Craig's list experience and the fact that I can confidently declare that it will be the greatest Craig's list experience I'll ever have. 

On Sunday afternoon, Roommate and I parked ourselves at the coffee shop across the street from our apartment because they have the interwebs and we, at the time, did not. We decided to peruse Craig's list for the stuff we don't have, which is everything but the futon. I had never used the website myself except in the most general cases of apartment and job hunting, all experiences that I wasn't too committed to anyway.  Craig had a pretty good list of TV sets, but Roommate and I quickly realized that we didn't know shit about TVs or how much they cost. Awesome! So we did some Google sleuthing right quick and then we returned to Craig. We found a great TV and cabinet set that was going for a pretty good deal, so I punched the phone number into a blank text message and sent a cheery inquiry to the character we had dubbed "Tv Guy." And how did I know it was a guy? Well, I didn't. But the voice of the ad was certainly masculine. I don't know, I'm sure somebody reading this is going to write an I.S. about masculine vs. feminine rhetoric and voice, and how "you people" are so quick to gender certain forms of writing. Well, I am you people, so use me in your study and thank me in the acknowledgements. 

Tv Guy responded immediately and asked when we wanted to come see it. I don't know why I said this aloud, but I nervously laugh and go, "He sure responded fast. I hope he's not going to kill us!" As soon as the words left my mouth, it occurred to me that this is exactly how Craig's list murders happen. Unsuspecting seekers of discounted goods are drunk with hubris as they blindly stumble into a stranger's home, only to be found days later in a garbage can. Diane Court has this great line in Say Anything about how she perceives the balance of the universe and there can't be too much good stuff without some bad stuff; it's all very yin and yang. I'm not going to put you through my similarly minded philosophy, but know that Diane Court and I are thinking the same thing. Right, so there I was, Craig's list killer on my mind and I was like: Well, I've already been far too lucky thus far in life. I guess this is how it ends! Which is terrible, I know, but the mind thinks what it wants. 

The next day I was contacted by Tv Guy who had just returned from Milwaukee and he said that he was ready for us to come check out the TV. Because the both of us had managed to push the murder comment to the back of our minds, Roomie and I jumped into her Honda Accord and made our way to a Chicagoland neighborhood a little north of where we live. As soon as we turned the corner into Tv Guy's neighborhood, we simultaneously let out a gasp. 

"Woooooow."

"This does not look like our neighborhood."

And that's because this place was swank as hell. I immediately felt better about the probability of Tv Guy being a murderer, but then all I could do was think about Patrick Bateman and I got nervous again.   We were especially going to be murdered. Tv Guy texted me and told me he was going to be late so to just hang tight outside of his building. Roomie and I positioned ourselves in a flower bed and watched lots of nice cars roll down the private road to parallel park in spots that did not at all seem big enough. Young yuppie couples walking on the sidewalk looked like they were coming from a really good work out that didn't involve any sweat; I couldn't help but notice all the skinny tan ring fingers adorned with diamonds the size of pebbles. And there I sat, most of me in the dirt, sweating profusely, and hoping that the Accord wasn't being towed. 

A little black car swerved into an empty space in front of the building and the driver's side door swung open. A man leaped out and threw his hands about his head.

"Who's here for a TV!" 

"IT'S ME!" I said, standing up and throwing my hands up as well. 

We caught up to the man and introduced ourselves. His name was Dave. It was then that I realized that Dave was far and away the dreamiest guy I had come into contact with in recent years, and I actually think I blushed when I revealed myself as "the one who's been texting you." Dave wore a San Francisco Giants retro tee, chino cut off shorts, and boat shoes. He had a head of hair like John Stamos circa 1993. And he had just spent the long weekend biking to and from Milwaukee. There he was, our Craig's list murderer-to-be: Dreamboat Dave. 

D.D. opened the glass doors to the the massive apartment building and we were met with a sea of marble: marble floors, marble pillars, marble walls. I said, "This looks just like our building." He laughed, his dimples making their first appearance, before catching himself. "Wait, really?" Ugh, so endearing, D.D.! You know our apartment isn't as nice as yours, but thanks for thinking it could be! I immediately stopped to remind myself that Patrick Bateman always did his killing inside his apartment, so I should take a step back from the enthusiasm and remain on my guard. But, seriously, D.D. was such a cutie I just wanted to giggle and smile as much as humanly possible. The elevator ride provided us with enough time to exchange pleasantries. I pray that I was witty to some degree. Then we made it to his apartment. 

Uh, it was fabulous. Of course it was. Like, it had to be. It had high ceilings and exposed brick and a killer view and DAVE used to live there and man, was it nice. I scanned the countertops for Phil Collins CDs, but we were in the clear. The tv and little cabinet on which it stood looked great and after making some remarks of approval, the three of us stood out on his balcony and he pointed out the building he works in and various other downtown landmarks. Dreamboat Dave, you are sooo dreamy. After we decided that we would definitely be making a deal, he started pointing at the last remnants of his possessions around the apartment, asking us if he wanted them. When in the bedroom, he pointed at a gorgeous nightstand and said, "You want that?" I said "Sure. How much?" He mulled it over for about 15 seconds before saying, "Twenty bucks?" I handed him a twenty and then he said, "Yeah, it's from Crate and Barrel so it's pretty nice. And take the lamp with you, too."

NOTE: Googled that table the next day. Originally 300 bucks, baby. YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH.

Right, so the pointing continued and he motioned up to his cabinets. On top of them was a variation of decorative looking stuff; run-of-the mill filler items that are owned by rich people with lofted ceilings. D.D. jumped up on his counter, pulled down a beautiful picnic basket and said, "Do you want this?"

I kind of pretended like he was handing me a bouquet. But hells yeah I took that picnic basket! It is adorable and it has matching plates and cloth napkins inside and it has braided leather accents and D.D. totally sold it by telling me about free concerts in Millennium Park that are perfect for picnic baskets. Man, I'm about to do SO much picnicking. I also want you to know that this was the point in which I noticed his wedding invitation hanging on his fridge. Roomie and I gushed over it for probably far too long and then we asked him a lot of details about the ceremony and "ooohed!" and "ahhhed!" like we were watching a god damn Hugh Grant movie. His Dreamboat stock went up a hundred fold based on his re-telling of his recent nuptials. Mrs. Dreamboat Dave better be the best of the best. 

So then we carried all the crap outside. This part is not interesting. In fact, the three of us struggled. My arms are still sore and I have bruises all over my legs. Moving is the worst. 

D.D. was unbelievably awesome and helpful as he took the time to finagle everything into the Accord. He made several trips for us and, on the last one, he came out with a Brita water pitcher, one of the really nice ones with the lights that go off if you need to refill. And he said, "Here, you can have this too." I can drink clean water, go on picnics, watch TV, and rest my glasses somewhere while I sleep. All because of Dreamboat Dave. And the best part? We totally forgot the remote controls at his old place so I have to see him again some time this week. 

I trust Craig's list will never run this smoothly ever again. 

Five days in and I already love this city. I never had any doubt, as I loved it before I got here, but we are already discovering perfect little coffee shops, bomb Thai food, and the ease of getting downtown on our faithful Blue Line. 20 minutes on the train and I'm looking at Michigan Avenue. It's great. If you're thinking about going to a new city after college, you need to do it. If you have the means to do it, do it. Do it. Because it's an adventure and it's really hard and really frustrating and if you don't do it now, you're probably not going to do it. So even though I've been here for 5 days and I spent 2.5 of them cleaning every square inch of this apartment, trust that I am peddling the truth. It's worth it