Social media, work, writing for various other projects, and yes, a bit of socializing have been occupying much of my time as of late. As necessary as it was to take a bit of a break from the blog world, I’m excited to get back into the swing of things. Too much time apart and I begin to really miss the friendships I’ve made with you all. I hope you know you are never far from my mind. In real life, I’ve had some incredibly meaningful connections with so many of you (via long email exchanges or Twitter/FB messages), and in dreams I’ve had coffee and conversations with some of my favorite bloggers (is that weird? Don’t judge). It’s nice to be back and I will continue to make my rounds to your neck of the woods in the next few days.

A few of you have asked if Bryan and I have had any more conversations about the proposition I made a few weeks ago. Though we have recently discussed the possibility of him moving in with me a bit more openly, including our thoughts, fears, and desires, I refuse to push. There’s no reason for that. We are in a good place and are enjoying our time together. Part of me worries that the honeymoon will come to a complete stop the moment we share a laundry basket. Though sometimes I do get wrapped up in the idea of waking up to him every morning and having someone there to kill spiders, I’m not sure I’m completely ready to part with the remote and cook for two just yet. Basically, I feel equal parts ready and scared shitless. I wonder if that will eventually dissipate.

But there is a sense of relief since I told him I would like him to move in. I’m proud of myself for being so honest in this relationship, which is something I’m not sure I would have been able to do without someone so patient and understanding on my side.

I know Bryan is thinking about the logistics of this move, too. He’s already contacted a friend about a position that would bring him closer to my neck of the woods and he’s been looking into the parking situation in Hoboken (which is always problematic on our overpopulated streets). He’s also asked me where in the hell he’ll put his shoes (it appears mine take up much of the real estate in my shoebox apartment). These gestures show me the move is something he’s thinking about, too.

This past weekend he surprised me with something I’ve always wanted (I can’t help it; it sings to my inner nerd). It’s an antique Underwood typewriter from 1917 and it’s just gorgeous. A part of me wishes I had somewhere nicer to put it, but for now it has made a home on the tiny Ikea table I have set up in my living room.

And since I haven’t posted any pictures of my sweet one in awhile and we actually took a pic where we’re both smiling, I share with you one that was taken by my aunt on Passover. I felt it was time to update the picture on Facebook where we’re both half naked after our polar bear dive in February.

Please accept my humblest apologies for not being as present on your blogs as I would like. You know I still love yas, right? XOXO

never had a home like this

This past weekend Hoboken celebrated it’s annual St. Patrick’s Day parade, a tradition that brings the finest frat boys from the tri-state area. As any self-respecting, non-Irish, older-than-25 year old would do, I fled the city as fast as my little legs could carry. I’ve experienced all kinds of post-college antics but the stench of urine and vomit first thing in the morning is something I’ll just never get used to. Don’t get me wrong. I have participated in all the St. Pat’s Day festivities over the years–the long lines to get into the already filled to capacity bars, the house parties, the early morning drinking–and I’ve had an incredible run. But now that I’m 31, I feel I may have outgrown this tradition and this town in general.

Last year may have been the final straw for me. When my adorable blonde-haired blue eyed friend came to visit, we walked back to the train only to be harrassed nine times over. Hearing the drunk ramblings of out-of-towners looking to score with any piece of ass they can find is not my idea of a good time. And frat guys just don’t turn me on.

I think this might mean I have finally outgrown my current coordinates. That feeling has been nagging me for quite some time now. I’ve been living in Hoboken for almost five years now and, though we’ve had some good times together, I like to think about where my next home might be.

Here are some thoughts:

Manhattan: As much as I’d love to make the Upper East Side my home, I can barely afford my current apartment. And I don’t want to take on roomies, either. Sorry, old gal. I’m afraid I have to rule you out.

Queens: Admittedly, I don’t know too much about this borough though I have several friends who reside in the Astoria area and they seem to like it. Good bars, beer hall, fine dining… It’s a possibility.

Jersey City: I have a few friends here as well, so this location would come with a drinking crew. Rent is a bit cheaper than what I pay in Hoboken and my commute would remain the same.

Brooklyn: Although most of my friends here are married and Brooklyn is one of those places people complain about traveling to, I’m drawn to it’s hipsters, barcade, and vibrant music scene. I feel as though we’d get along well together.

I have a ways to go until my lease ends but it’s always fun to think about changes. Anyone care to weigh in? Where should Charlotte settle next?