Before you form an epic opinion touting the benefits of living somewhere else and leaving the city I’ve chosen to build my life and connections in, know that my response is simply this: No. I don’t want to leave my home, and I will not have a roommate at the age of 36. I’m not asking to live in a luxury penthouse with a live-in manicurist here, I just want an average, functioning place, and I don’t think I’m asking too much. Say what you want about my city, but when a woman with a six-figure salary cannot afford an apartment with uncracked walls, floors, windows, and respectable plumbing, but she could if she was in a relationship, shit’s fucked up. Yes, I have outsized law school loans , but that shouldn’t mean that my shoes have to live in the kitchen and my chest of drawers in the living room.