Ten years ago, I was a different girl in a different world. I was engaged to a man 20 years older than me. I lived with him in his sprawling Manhattan Beach compound and traipsed around wearing a 3 carat diamond. I had no education or career to speak of, I spent at least 4 hours a day at the golf course either with my instructor or on the putting green, I shopped, I traveled. Sounds great, doesn't it? Not so much.
I broke off the engagement after discovering emails that this man had sent to someone regarding an upcoming business trip to Costa Rica. In those emails, he clearly described to his 'Costa Rica Concierge' that he wanted two young, blond women in his hotel room on the day he arrived. I kind of knew this was coming, even when I accepted his marriage proposal. Sometimes when you're young, a big, expensive house and a Ferrari will do that to you.
When we broke up, I made up my mind to stay in the South Bay area of Los Angeles. I loved it there. So I found a shared rental home in Redondo Beach, one block from the sand. The home was an old Victorian style, about as big as my previous Manhattan Beach monstrosity, but this one was special. The exterior was painted mostly a lovely creamy light butterscotch color and the accents on the windows and frame were done in easter pastels that actually quite complimented it. From the street, it looked like a giant, life-size dollhouse. From the inside, it was kind of like 'The Real World', but without cameras. Not without happiness, sadness, growth, or drama. It was a condensed form of living. Inside the 8 bedroom, 7 bathroom home lived 8 people with 8 different paths that led them there.
I was literally scraping by financially at this point. I was completely devastated by my break-up even though I knew it would never work. I hid in my room inside of this dollhouse. I would drink red wine and smoke cigarettes in my room while watching TV. We weren't supposed to smoke in the house, but I was being dramatic and depressed. It was the smoking that probably changed my life for the better.
Janine was a roomie who lived all the way on the 3rd floor, in the sprawling attic space that had a view of the ocean. She and Ashly (who lived on the 2nd floor) came knocking one night to ask me if I was ok. No one had had a chance to talk to me since I moved in. I really didn't want to talk to anyone. Janine said she could smell the cigarette smoke upstairs, and as a smoker, demanded that I come out and have a cigarette with them. Janine is very alpha-male and dragged me out of my 1st floor dungeon. Ashly stole my heart.
I met so many different people in the 3 years that I lived in that home. Some of us were 'lifers' (more than a year), but most that came there to live stayed only a few months. I spent my time in that home making mistakes, falling in and out of love, hooking up with people who were wrong for me, working for three different successful companies, blowing all of my money on alcohol and bars and partying, crying with my girlfriends, laughing with my girlfriends, and finally, meeting The One.
Ryan moved into that house, literally two weeks after graduating from college. He moved into Janine's old attic space. We met in that house. We had chemistry in that house. We moved out of that house together, 6 months after he first moved in.
305 Emerald holds so many important memories for me. A life-changing, tangible place on the map. If I ever have enough money to buy it, I will. It's where my doll got her 'happily ever after'.
(You're not supposed to make me cry at work.)
A beautiful story, beautifully written :)
Posted by: Shelly | April 06, 2010 at 12:25 PM