City Love(43)

“Damn, girl. Were you born this confident or what?”

“Half born, half what.” The truth is, I’m not really sure where my confidence comes from. I wasn’t a shy little girl. When I was four, a lady friend of my mom’s came over wearing a fabulous red dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. I remember telling her she was a sexy lady. My mom and her friend laughed hard over that.

Some boys would be intimidated by girl power. Not Jude. He seems to appreciate my spark. And I’m sure he’s appreciating that I’m not pressuring him for any kind of commitment. Free spirits like Jude don’t want to be tied down. This way is better for both of us. No strings attached. No hidden disappointments, strained conversations, or passive-aggressive games. Just two people enjoying being with each other and having fun. Isn’t that the point?

Enjoy the freedom, dude. You’re welcome.





TWENTY-ONE

ROSANNA


CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME what my upstairs neighbors are doing? Consecutive hours of high-impact cardio? Dragging furniture across the floor? Why don’t they ever sit down? And why does it sound like a herd of elephants pounding on the floor every time they walk? What is this boom boom boom instead of normal people walking? Who walks like that?

Like no. Just stop.

The situation is entirely unacceptable. If I were a more confident person, I’d march right up there and ask them to simmer down. Perhaps they’d be interested in relaxing on the couch with a good book? Or relaxing on the couch doing anything as long as they stop pounding on the floor please god. I may be new to this city, but I’m pretty sure your upstairs neighbors walking around shouldn’t cause your whole apartment to vibrate. For graduation my grandma sent me a framed print of Seurat’s Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, which is hanging in my room. It shouldn’t shake when those meatheads pound across their floor. That’s just wrong. I mean, seriously. What exactly are they doing up there?

But I’m not a more confident person. My opinions are confident. My moral standards are confident. My views regarding how society should operate are confident. Now all I have to do is find a way to be as confident on the outside as I am on the inside.

Tha-RUMP bump bump! go the elephants.

Prior to the disappointing discovery of wildlife inhabiting the apartment above ours, I was excited about the possibility of staying here freshman year. UNY lets freshmen live off-campus because the school’s housing is limited. Apparently the university is facing a housing crisis where they don’t have enough dorm space. They’re scrambling to find places for everyone. Some subsidized apartments and shares like this one are available by lottery. Students already in summer shares have the option of keeping their apartment for the upcoming year. When I talked to Sadie and Darcy about staying, they were totally on board. We’ll find out if we get to keep this place in August when the university notifies everyone of their housing situation.

What if I’m placed in a different apartment with noisy neighbors again? Or if I stay here and have to deal with these idiots upstairs all year? It’s one thing during the summer when I’m only working. But what about when classes start? It will be a whole other thing when I’m trying to study and read and write papers on three hours of sleep. Which will likely be my life, considering that I’ll have to work at least twenty hours a week on top of my full course load. The circus upstairs makes it impossible to concentrate on anything.

So does D.

Our date at Press Lounge was one of the top five highlights of my life. And by far the most romantic experience I’ve ever had. The way he looked at me when he said there’s a lot to fall in love with. How I melted when he put his hand over mine. My stomach was in knots the whole way home in the cab, wondering if D was going to kiss me. When we pulled up in front of my building, D kissed me on the cheek. That’s when I realized I definitely wanted more.

Seriously. What are they doing upstairs? Now it sounds like someone is doing jumping jacks. Pound pound pound. Is making this much noise even legal? After some quick research online, I learn about NYC Quiet Hours as specified in Local Law 113. Quiet hours are from 10:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. The noise code states the following:

No person shall make, continue or cause or permit to be made or continued any unreasonable noise . . . Unreasonable noise shall include but shall not be limited to sound, attributable to any device, that exceeds the following prohibited noise levels:

(1) Sound, other than impulsive sound, attributable to the source, measured at a level of 7 dB(A) or more above the ambient sound level at or after 10:00 p.m. and before 7:00 a.m., as measured at any point within a receiving property or as measured at a distance of 15 feet or more from the source on a public right-of-way.

So I guess filing a formal complaint would require a measurement of the decibel level. Which I might be forced to take if they don’t shut up. They’ve pounded around every night. The first couple nights didn’t bother me. But now it’s been over a week. Every additional day of tolerating their noise is grating on me exponentially.

Something about the unsettling effect of neighbor noise invading my space is making me homesick. I miss my supersoft lavender blanket my mom got on sale when I was little. Getting under that blanket at night soothed me. I felt protected despite all of the obstacles in my way. Maybe it was stupid to feel that way about a blanket. But it’s upsetting to be in my new bed without my supersoft blanket, even though it’s too hot to use. Shipping it would have taken up too much box space.