Having wasted a month interviewing countless freaks, weirdos, persons of dubious financial solvency, persons of dubious hygiene and the occasional very nice person (who, inevitably, would turn the place down), I resolved last week to give up on finding a flatmate for my beloved Newtown terrace and to get a place on my own where I can sit on the couch in my undies and watch ABC and SBS whenever I like.
Of course the big question is, where? Having lived in Newtown or thereabouts for something like seven of the last eight years, the people at the deli, milk bar, pub and a couple of cafés know my name. But I think it’s time for a change. That’s mainly because when you tell people you live in Newtown, they always assume you are gay or a communist. Or a gay communist.
Of course the other areas under consideration have similar baggage. Surry Hills – wanker. Potts Point/Rushcutters Bay/Elizabeth Bay – pervert. Darlinghurst – gay or a drug dealer. Or a gay drug dealer.
So far the places I’ve looked at in Darlinghurst have either been noisy or depressingly run down. And most of the places in Potts Point appear to have micro-kitchens with a tiny bar fridges and no stove or oven. Honestly, who could live like that? It’s inhumane!
It might just be easier to stick with Newtown and let people assume what they will. At least being a gay communist means everyone gets to be equally fabulous.