Constructing a Bachelor Pad

I recently moved into my own condo.

It's not much. Kitchen/living room/dining room all on the first floor. Bathroom and bedroom on the second. And I got it for a ridiculously cheap price.

Talk about your symbolic landmarks for starting over. My first time living without a roommate and owning my own place. Being single and the owner of a condo, my mind suddenly went into ultra-panic mode. A few initial questions came to mind:

1. What if I have a girl over?
2. What if I bring a girl over?
3. What if a girl comes over?
   
4. What happens if a girl gets lost and accidentally finds her way on my doorstep?
   

I had to come to grips with reality that I needed a drastic makeover from my usual, standard, go-to decor.

Leo used to give me shit all the time for the things in my room. My friend Jenny ripped on me for my lack of pillows and rickety twin bed.

When Leo left, he gave me his classy nightstand and bed. I'm hoping that some osmosis will take place and I'll absorb some of that mojo. It's definitely taken some getting used to, owning an adult bed and all. I find that I have more room than I'm used to and it's fucking weird.

I also had to part with some items that were very dear to me. I had to make the difficult, Sophie's Choice-esque decision that my bad-ass Spiderman poster and my favorite frat acquisition would, no longer have a home on my walls:

A staple of any college room

They are rolled and stowed away in my newly organized closet (where I found that girl's number) to perhaps one day, be passed down to my offspring when he goes to college.

Goodbye my beloved milk-crates-turned-dresser-drawers. I now have a "real" dresser. With "real" drawers.

Don't even get me started on my reaction to having to decide what color of paint to purchase for my bedroom and living room. Deer. In. The. Headlights. This is tough shit!

I have so much cabinet space I don't even know what to do with myself. I am hoping that I can turn one of my glass cabinets into a mini bar. I hear that's what you're supposed to do as an adult.

Maybe I am getting a step closer to living up to my childhood vision that all males in their mid-twenties lived in apartments with chique black furniture, glass tables and hosted sexy cocktail parties on weekends.

I feel like I'm this shady little fox that is building this seductive lair in which to lure in unsuspecting chickens.

Sexy, sexy chickens.