The Closing of the American House (for me)

Lording over what was my domain. 

I lived in four apartments during my time in Washington, D.C., which has now come to a close. But I only lived in the most important one of them for two months.

We call it Allan Bloom, for reasons too idiosyncratic to explain here. But the fact that it had a name at all might suggest its importance. It's relatively common on college campuses for houses to be named; outside of that bizarre world that often skews young adults' perception of how reality ought to work, it's rare that youthful urban dwellers even get a building to themselves, much less desire to name it. But against all of this, Allan Bloom stands as a glorious exception.

For almost a year before I actually lived in this Northeast D.C. house, Allan Bloom was the staging ground of my social life. I was there at least once a week. And it gave me plenty of reasons to stop by. Boys' Night on Wednesdays, a casual gathering of just guys being dudes, giving each other the kind of companionship and camaraderie that sadly too many these days lack. Regular parties, for which our surprisingly spacious abode is strikingly well-suited. And perhaps best of all, the impromptu trips, times I showed up when I had nothing else to do and just wanted to do it with friends. I even slept on the couch and cooked there...and all of that before I even moved in!

Naturally, I was thrilled by the opportunity to move in. It seemed I had found the perfect place. The most space I'd yet had in Washington, and I got to share it with people I considered good friends. A convenient location, with all the necessary amenities, and many good running routes. Regular chances to see friends of mine who didn't live there. I imagined that I would live there, happily, for as long as I lived in Washington, D.C.

The boys of Allan Bloom 

And that was true. It's just that my time in D.C. didn't end up lasting as long as I thought it would. When a dream job offer came my way that would take me out of D.C., one of the biggest factors influencing me to stay was Allan Bloom, and the social world of which it was the focal point. I had worked and waited years for such an ideal situation. I suddenly found myself in a cheesy romantic comedy, where I literally had to choose between my personal life and my career. But this was a false dichotomy. For even though I leave the house, I do not leave the friendship of its residents.

Hint hint...

Still, I cannot deny that my time at Allan Bloom has come to an end. On the surface, it seems like a kind of farce. Going through some of the painful motions of moving, it has felt that way at times. Moving stuff down our main staircase, I relived very recent memories of moving those same things up it just a few weeks prior. I only had a week or two, really, of actually living there, with all of my stuff in its desirable configuration, under the assumption that I would stay indefinitely. I  As my housemates helped me move out, I recalled their recent efforts helping me move in, doubling the debt of gratitude I owe them. But none of this can make the reality, the finality, of my departure any less sad.

Though leaving Allan Bloom should not be only an occasion of sadness. I thought it was going to be my Shire; instead, it ended up as my Rivendell, a place where I could rest for the next stage of my journey. I ended my time in D.C. in the best possible position: among friends, in a place that I loved.  For despite living there for only two months, the brunt of my non-professional life was there: hanging out, partying, eating, sleeping, doing nothing, and more. In this respect, Allan Bloom reaches a status much like my old college house, one that is now sadly long gone. I didn't think I'd ever again live in a place of which I would be that fond. And unlike that one, I'll be able to come back and visit, and someone else will get the chance to enjoy it. Maybe I'll even find occasion to sleep here. Though next time, I'll have to sleep on the couch.

Again.

My even older domain