Life is Not an Episode of New Girl

Television shows such as Sex and the City, Friends and New Girl brainwash us to believe that we can live in an exciting city full of cute guys, a plethora of jobs and best of all, a reasonably priced apartment. It's not until most of us graduate college and enter the real world that we realize our friends don't have the time nor the energy to sit in a coffee shop with us all night, and brunch every Sunday with our best girlfriends is something we won't be able to afford until we're well into our thirties.

When I walked across the stage at my college graduation I was all too aware of the fact that I had no clue what my next step was. Unlike other graduates though, my time in college wasn't so typical. I had the pleasure of traveling, studying abroad and even interning in Washington DC. All these adventures set me up for a lot of disappointment when I quickly realized FAFSA would no longer be paying for my international fun.

Somehow I managed to talk my way into a grad school acceptance, I honestly think this is the way I conned myself into receiving an acceptance letter. The problem? I live in California and had made the decision to apply to one graduate program...all the way in Washington DC, you know the place, with rent prices comparable to New York City.

With two weeks before my tuition deposit was due I had the job of finding a place to fall asleep at night with a barely there budget. After talking to a bunch of friends who were equally oblivious, I decided to look on Craigslist for housing. Worst. Decision. Ever.

This is where my post title suddenly become relevant. Life is not an episode of New Girl ya'll.

Craigslist isn't full of cool twenty something housemates who live in a reasonably priced apartment with plenty of square footage. After contacting over 60 listings and being completely ignored by at least half, I was left with the obvious scams, total creepers and future kidnappers.

The fact that New Girl starts off with her finding an apartment on Craigslist so easily and in an all male apartment that is somehow spotless and full of natural lighting now just pisses me off. I've been looking for weeks and have yet to find one reputable place that doesn't ask for my social security number after just a few text messages. You know, for "application purposes."

With few options and even less time, I let the fantasy of me living in the city go for a house share in a neighboring suburb instead. Maybe if I had perfectly voluminous bangs and puppy dog eyes the house hunt would be a bit easier, but until then I'll continue to tell every scam artist I encounter to go to hell and keep hitting refresh on Apartments.com.