This is where I lived when Sherry and I first started dating. Whether it was my impeccable design sense or the fact that she saw endless potential for improvement, she was charmed enough to stick around.
I was a proud renter of a futon tucked into the corner of the living room — the classic setup for a new graduate trying to make it in New York City. This one-bedroom apartment in Long Island City, Queens, was shared with two other guys: one took the bedroom and the other and I split the communal living space.
To be fair, I only stayed there for two months while waiting for my friends’ lease to end so we could move together to the Upper West Side, where I’d finally have my own room. The brief period I spent in that apartment happened to coincide with the start of my relationship with Sherry — lucky timing, I guess.
One redeeming feature of that setup was the view from the living room. It made the reality of sleeping on a futon with my clothes piled above me a lot more tolerable.