As my daughter will be happy to tell you, I am not a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination. Although I should note that I am not happy about it - mess just seems to happen and there's never enough time to properly clean everything. And I always clean before I have guests. But when I don't have guests almost anything goes.
Well it turns out even I have limits.
So this guy was on the youngish side, but he was cute and smart and sweet and really seemed to like me. Although it was a little freakish how much he had in common with the character Buddy in my play JULIA & BUDDY - he went to bording school, and his last girlfriend dumped him due to a physical trauma and he quoted Nietzche at me (that would normally be a bad thing - a joke in the play is that whenever you meet a guy on a dating site and you ask if he likes philosophy he will invariably mention Nietzche. However in this case he mentioned Nietzche outside of a general discussion of philosophers.)
We had a couple of nice dates this week - I even took him to my favorite place, the Black Mountain Winehouse in Brooklyn. And when I told him about my laptop meltdown he offered to let me come to his place on Saturday and use his laptop so I could get out the weekly NYCPlaywrights email blast. That was so sweet and I was inclined to feel romantic towards him.
Until I got to his apartment.
To say that it looked like a bomb went off really understates the war zone aesthetic. I was astounded - just crap everywhere. The only area that was not covered in crap was the two lounge chairs set in front of a huge flat screen TV, on which was blaring some cartoon show. I stuck it out for 30 minutes before I got the hell out of there. I felt so disrespected that he clearly made no effort to clean on my account.
And then I had to pay Staples to let me use their computer station to finish the NYCPlaywrights newsletter. And that's where I'm typing this.
As soon as I get home I am cleaning my apartment - and I will never let it get messy again.