The One

The search is over. I've finally found The One.

It's just like everyone says, when it's right, you just know. We're going to live happily ever after, I just know it.

What, you think I'm talking about a man? Don't be silly, I'm talking about finally finding a flat, but the means to get there are pretty much the same.

Just like you look for a man online, you look for a flat online. You search for things in your age range or your price range, look for something geographically desirable, and when you actually go to see it/meet him in person, you just hope that the picture provided doesn't let you down. When you do actually meet, you have to put your best foot forward. Be friendly, smile a lot, and let them know how much better their lives will be with you in it. Then, once the first meeting/date is over, you have to let them know that you're definitely interested, but you can't appear needy. No one likes needy.

And after you let them know you're interested, you wait by the phone. And wait, and wait, and wait. When the phone never rings, or you get an email letting you know it's bad news, you just feel rejected. The more rejections I got, the more I kept wondering, why doesn't anyone want to live with me?! I'm delightful!

Then on Monday, I found The One. I had had another viewing first that evening, one of those where the photos totally lied. I saw a picture of a spacious, bright room, only to be standing in a tiny room while the landlord explained that the wrong photos were put onto the website by no fault of his own. Yeah, right. I headed to my second viewing with higher hopes, since the advert said they were looking for someone who thinks kerfuffle is a great word, so in my response I used kerfuffle in a sentence. I was pretty sure I was a front-runner before I even arrived.

True to the cliche, when you know, you know. Yes, the furniture is a bit shabby and the kitchen features The Original Microwave, but the room is big and bright, and the flatmates are lovely. We hit it off right away. An hour after I left, my phone finally rang, telling me the flatmates loved me. I knew someone would eventually!

I moved out of Fen's bedroom and into my new place today. As much as I love Fen, it was time to get out of her bed. She never wants to cuddle.

The new place isn't without its hiccups, most notably the fact that I have a king-sized bed, which is most impressive considering several of the rooms I looked at were most definitely smaller than a king-sized bed, but it means finding bedding is tougher and more expensive. Having a large bed is not the worst problem to have. Now all I need to do is find a man to put in it.