We met when she applied to live in my shitty, overpopulated punk house. We chose someone else, but she and I embarked upon a dalliance which ended ungracefully. I remember gaily texting her, "goodbye forever."
Four years later, checking in at an appointment near my apartment, there she was behind the desk. A few weeks later, an email arrived from her, apologizing for being an "awkward turtle" and asking if my housemate and I would consider her for the open room we posted. No, darling.
Such are the untold costs of the housing crisis.
_
Editor’s note: Registration is open for My Favorite Breakup’s third anniversary party and breakup story slam. We’re about half sold out (!!!) so if you want to come, grab your ticket soon. It’s on Feb. 15 in Philadelphia. I can’t wait to see you. -jz