An article in the New York Times this week about women-only apartment buildings in New York City brought back memories of my first college dorm way back in the mid-’90s. It was the only remaining all-girls dorm on campus and I was in the last class of freshmen to live there before it became co-ed. I didn’t choose the dorm and I wasn’t happy when I was assigned to it; I remember feeling especially frustrated that I’d finally escaped the clutches of my over-protective mother only to be stuck in a place where I had to sign-in every male guest, escort them in the halls and elevators, and make sure they left the building before 11 p.m. Lame! Of course, back then basically the only guys who were interested in hanging out with me were my plethora of gays who liked to watch “Ricki Lake” on my tiny 13-inch TV and gossip about our mutual friends. What can I say? I was a hag at a young age. I doubt it was any coincidence that the next year, when I moved into a co-ed dorm, I finally branched out and actually started dating straight guys who liked making out with me instead of just counseling me on how to wear my hair. All this is to say I couldn’t imagine living in an apartment as a grown woman where the same rules that I had to abide by when I was 18 applied. Keep reading »
