15. Accepted

"Look what that bitch did to my back!"
I looked up from unpacking my suitcase to see a 20-something-year-old girl come flying into the apartment, throw her purse onto the couch, and turn her back to Cole, lifting her shirt all the way up to her bra strap. I poked my head out the door to see if I could catch a glance. I wanted to know what the bitch did (not that I knew who the bitch was, or who this girl was in my new living room).
I saw a shiny red scrape, about 4 inches long and an inch or two wide, stretching across the right side of the middle of her back.
"What happened??" Cole asked as he bent down for a closer look.
"Well, I was in the middle of hooking up with John when his girlfriend busts in! She freaked out, pushed me off the loft, and knocked John out cold! I had to hide in the bathroom while she tried to bash the door in. That bitch is crazy!"
She noticed me standing in the doorway, an eager look on my face, waiting to hear more.
"Oh, hi." She said.
Cole laughed and said, "Whitney, this is Maleah, your new roommate. Maleah, meet Whitney."
"Oh, hey!" Maleah said. A big smile spread across her face.
Damn. She was gorgeous. I didn't want a gorgeous roommate (unless it happened to be male, and Maleah was definitely NOT male.) She was Puerto Rican, thin, tan, and had a funky style I knew I'd never be able to pull off. I wanted to hate her.
It was a three bedroom apartment, and I started to wonder about the third roommate. Would it be another beautiful girl I probably wouldn't get along with?
I got my answer later that night. I came home from a trip to Kmart for some necessities, and I heard the shower running. I assumed it was Maleah because Cole had already headed a few doors down to his new apartment. I was hanging my shoe rack on my door when I saw movement in the living room. I swung my door open and saw a startled half naked man standing in the living room. He was only wearing a towel, and his smooth, muscular body had that fresh-out-of-the-shower glisten. I wanted to reach out and touch him. His dark brown hair was cut close, and his big brown eyes looked at me in complete confusion.
"You must be my third roommate," I said, stepping into the living room and holding my hand out to him.
"Oh, so you're in Cole's room? I'm Tristan." I was surprised to hear such a thick French accent come out of his mouth. He let go of his towel to shake my hand. I tried to use mind powers to make the towel drop to the floor. No such luck.
As he walked into his room I snuck a glance at his backside. The towel was stretched tight against his perfect ass. Life was good.
Maleah and I became instant best friends. We spent our Saturday nights clubbing at NYC hot spots and our Sundays recovering over brunch and nine cups of coffee each at Wai or Yaffa Cafe. She introduced me to all of her friends, and everyone accepted me without a second thought.

I don't think Tristan liked to wear clothes, because nine times out of 10 he was only in a towel. Not that I'm complaining.
Two weeks after I moved in, we acquired a third roommate. The day he moved in he asked if I could do his makeup and if he could borrow my heels.
There was nothing like NYC. Was I really ready to leave it for a better job in Texas?

14. Sweet Little Lies

Was I interested in the job? I don't know. Yes, I told the editor I was interested; that's just the way we play the game. I liked living in New York, but did I have my heart set on living there? No. Unlike most journalists, NYC was never my goal. It may be the magazine capital of the U.S., but I didn't care. I loved Texas. I remember one time when I was a junior in college, I was in the Big Apple for a group trip to tour magazines. I was with one of my best friends, mentors, and previous editor, Gayle. I distinctly remember we were standing in Central Park, drinking coffee on a bridge, when she looked at me and said, "I don't want to live here. I'd be perfectly happy working at a big-city magazine in Texas. This isn't for me."
I took a look around. The trees were turning from green to gold, and I could hear the wind whistling through them. But behind that I heard the taxis honking, bringing me back to reality.
"Me neither." I said, and meant it.

So, how did I end up there? I graduated. All throughout college we were told if we did everything right, set ourselves apart, went above and beyond, we'd get hired before or soon after we walked across the stage. Well, that was bullshit if I ever heard it. I graduated Summa cum Laude, I had three national magazine internships on my resume and a handful of local ones. I applied for every magazine job in Texas. I had multiple interviews and pored over lengthy edit tests until my brain was fried. And guess what I ended up doing? I became a nanny. Three days a week I'd take care of the cutest little 3-month-old baby girl, and she was absolutely precious. Yes, I spent $80,000 on that journalism degree, and I was going to pay it back changing one diaper at a time. I really couldn't complain though. While the baby slept I'd get to read Laurell K. Hamilton books while doing crunches in the ab lounger with crappy daytime TV playing in the background. "So this is what it's like to be a graduate," I thought to myself.
Three months into my nanny career I received an interesting phone call.
"Hi, Whitney, I'm calling to see if you're still interested in the internship you applied for at our national women's health magazine."
"Of course I am!" I had no idea what internship she was talking about.
"Well, we looked over your resume and clips, and we love what we see! I'd like to set up a phone interview with an editor. You do know that the job is in New York, right?"
"Sure do. I actually have a place up there already, just looking for an excuse to move in." The lies just kept on flowing.
"Great! Let's set up a call with a senior editor named Lucia tomorrow at 2."
"Looking forward to it!"
I hung up and searched through my past sent emails, trying to figure out what the hell I was getting myself into. After all the Texas magazines rejected me, I started applying to anything and everything, whether I had heard of the publication or not. I found the email in my sent mailbox. I had applied for this job three months ago.
The phone interview with Lucia went well. I lied again about my apartment in the city and my strong desire to move there. I just really wanted to see if I'd get an offer.
A few days later the phone rang again. I got the offer. I'd work 40 hours per week at $10 an hour for 6 months. Did I accept? Oh, and could I start in two weeks? I suddenly saw it as an adventure, a challenge. Living in New York City making only $10 an hour? Let's do it!
I now faced two very big problems. I had two weeks to sell my car, my baby, my pride and joy. I loved that car. The other problem: My imaginary apartment wasn't going to come out of thin air. I wouldn't have the money to put a deposit on an apartment until my car sold. I was in quite a predicament.
I was supposed to start work Aug. 11, 2009. My car sold on Aug. 9. I jumped on a plane on the 10th and landed in LaGuardia, homeless. For some reason, I wasn't scared. I knew Craig and his mighty mighty list had my back. I hopped on Craigslist at the airport and looked for temporary housing, available that day. I found three options. I called the first one. The voice on the other end sounded friendly and encouraging.
"If you don't like it, you can always drop your bags off here and then go look at your other two options. That way you won't have to lug your bags around."
What a sweet offer. Could be a serial killer.
My taxi pulled onto Saint Marks Place, between 1st and A, and I fell in love. I didn't care if I was about to get murdered. I'd die happy. The weather was beautiful, everyone seemed to be outside, eating at an outdoor cafe or drinking on the patio of the bar. I got out of the cab and called Cole, the friendly potential serial killer.
"I'll be right down!"
I was so overwhelmed with the atmosphere on that street that I didn't think about what my last words might be.
"Whitney?"
I turned around to see an attractive blond guy with a welcoming smile holding his hand out to mine. Well, he sure didn't look like a murderer.
"That'd be me. Nice to meet you, Cole." We shook hands and I immediately wondered if he had a girlfriend.
He carried both of my bags up to the top of the fifth floor walk up before I could make it to the third carrying only my purse, wheezing and coughing. The apartment was located directly above a charming Irish bar. Awesome, I could get shitfaced and then just crawl back up to my apartment. When I finally made it to the fifth floor, red-faced and bent over at the waist, I walked inside the apartment and was pleasantly surprised. It was colorful. So colorful. The kitchen and living room shared an exposed brick wall, and the living room was painted with bright green and darker green stripes. An old antique couch sat on one side of the living room and a black leather chair on the other. A flatscreen TV hung nicely from a nail in the exposed brick. I believed this is what one might call luxury in NYC.
"And this is my room, soon to be your room if you decide to stay." While I hoped that was an invitation for a slumber party for two, I knew he'd be sleeping in his new apartment, a few doors down. I looked around the room. There was a full-size bed taking up three-fourths of the room, then there was a dresser and a closet that might fit one shoe and a jacket. One wall was painted dark crimson, and there was just enough room to walk from the door to the closet with a thin pathway between the bed and the wall.
"I'll take it."

13. Copy and Paste

"Thanks for thinking of me! Of course, I'd love to hear more about the position. Let me know what the first step is in applying. My current resume is attached. Thanks!
-Whitney"

Then I sent an email to Cayden explaining the whole situation. This is his response:
"Whitney, that's absolutely fantastic news about the offer of a job, I'm really pleased for you. You've got a huge decision to make now, a nice situation to be in though, haha. Upsides are that you would be close to your family and friends who you obviously miss, it's a higher position, it'll pay more and allow you to save, you'll get free travel to places, and it's a fun magazine, which is what you've always wanted. The downside is that you won't have that New York experience for much longer and you'll leave your friends that you've made there. I think it's definitely worth saying that you're interested and asking more about it. Once you've got all of the facts you'll be able to make a more informed decision.
I'll try and give you some advice after almost a decade of working in different jobs in different places. In most of the jobs I've done, I've liked them to start off with, but after a while that novelty wears off after about a year. Only now am I in a job that I don't hate but that's my first one out of about 8, so if a dream job comes up, I would seriously think hard about taking it. If you stayed in New York, you might want a different challenge eventually but it's whether or not there will be any more around when you come to looking. The place where you live is important, too. I lived in Cyprus with beaches etc for 3 years, but after a while I stopped liking it and had to move back home.
Only you can make the decision Whitney, and you've got to go with what you feel is right, but whatever you decide, have no regrets because that'll just wear you down. You're obviously talented and whatever you choose to do, you'll do just fine in both.
I'm a completely different person to you when it comes to family, and also prefer living in a city, so for me, i'd probably see what the company is offering, then mention to your current company that, as much as you like being there, you've had a great offer nearer to home. If they really want you, they'll pay you more or promote you.
For you though, if I'm honest, I think you should take the job in Texas. I don't know you too well, although it feels like I do haha, but one thing I do know is that you love your family very much and your friends too. If you can be around those AND have pretty much your dream job then I think you'd pretty much have nothing to feel down about in life. Not a bad situation to be in. On top of that, for that editor to get in touch with you directly, they obviously really value you and that's what you don't always get in a workplace.

Your experiences in New York will have a huge impact on your life. I think the biggest experience you'll learn from it is not to kick the ass of an English guy in a bar, when he doesn't live in the same country as you, haha.

-Cayden"


Yes, this is an actual email from Cayden, copy and pasted (with his permission of course), and yes this is how long our three-times-a-day emails were, if not longer.