There is a difference between wanting something so badly you’ll do anything to get it and merely being an outright simp. That line has been toed by a certain “man” who agreed to pay $450 a month for a windowless hovel in Williamsburg. Rather than live for free in the public bathroom at McCarren Park, which essentially offers the same ambience, and probably far more space than a forty-square-foot cubbyhole, this “man” has decided to throw away $450 to sleep standing up. At this rate, homelessness truly seems like a more viable and reasonably priced option.
The worst part is, now that the “man” in question has put his living quarters above a music venue on blast, he’ll probably be evicted for violating some sort of rental code. But then again, maybe his desire for fame as a musician is better suited to the ends of giving an interview to The New York Times about his living situation, which, if nothing else, can be parlayed into another shittatay Williamsburg-based reality TV show.
The place a “man” chooses to live is often his making or breaking in this town. And the second he opts for Williamsburg, he’s already fucked three ways to Sunday. So why, dear God or whoever, would a self-respecting “man” packing any skin down there agree to live in a “dorm-like” structure called Common? Not only is the space little cubes stacked on top of each other that one must pay, at the minimum, $1,800 a month for, but it’s also designed to promote existing, essentially, in a vacuum. Perhaps most horrifying of all is the mission statement, touting that it’s “a community of passionate and creative people who live, work, and play together.”
Artisanal dorm bathroom
Whatever happened to compartmentalizing one’s life, huh? Common’s aim to re-create the college experience (specifically of bros) is not only a testament to the massively pervasive Peter Pan syndrome plaguing the “men” of Williamsburg (and “men” in general), but an utter inability to think for oneself. You don’t even have to choose your roommates if you don’t want to. Or buy your own toilet paper (though one imagines you’ll at least get three-ply for the price you’re paying). Moreover, the presence of a “community manager” a.k.a. an R.A. takes navigating the neighborhood on your own right out of a “man’s” hands. Who needs to think when you have money?