The Incredible Tale Of How I Lost My Roommates, Found Replacements And Renewed My Lease In Only 10 Days

Sure enough, I spotted a rent rise—a law student neighbor helped point it out—but I figured I'd coast until the last week of December when all of New York would first be looking to move.

That was in late October.

Now it was mid-Thanksgiving week, and my landlord was calling to find out what the hell I was doing. I told her one roommate would be staying (he'd let us know months ago) and the other would renew the lease with me.

I should have realized my notice wasn't due on the day my lease would expire, January 1, but 60 to 120 days from the day it was mailed—back in October.

It made sense the woman was furious; most landlords want ample time to fill their vacant apartments, especially during the slow winter months.

"I'll give you two days to find a new roommate!" she shrieked. I bargained her up to ten, and a made silent pact with the Craigslist gods.

I basically let the whole world know I was on the hunt for a roommate, being clear about what I was looking for—responsible, no drama—and what I wasn't—hipster grifters, dog owners.

I tapped people on college list servs, old colleagues, current colleague's college list servs and so on. I also used Craigslist. A lot.

Recent tragedies aside, Craigslist is still a great resource for young professionals looking for roommates.

With Barry's help, I created an excellent ad for the vacant room. Here's how:

We described our ideal roommate: "We're seeking someone who's fully employed, drama-free and always pays their bills on time. No pets."

We clearly described the room: "1 11x10 ft. bedroom with a full-sized closet, access to laundry, etc."

Our headline was exciting and made an impact: "Check Out This Amazing 1br in a 2-Story Cobble Hill Loft!"

We didn't lie about our lifestyles: "We're two young professionals in our 20s who keep it low-key during the week. Cleanliness a plus."

When sifting through responses, I kept an eye out for broken English, weird requests and non-U.S. citizens needing a place for their friends to crash. Among the doozies:

"Hi. I don't do hard drugs, but I do love 420 and alcohol."

"Before to take a look at the room, I have one quick question. Have you considered 2 females moving in there?"

"I'm clean and organized. In fact I even love cleaning as my zen. I don't even mind doing other people's dishes." 

"I m really really interested in moving in so i would love to have a chance to meet you ... By the way what do you do in NYC? Where are you from??"

I scheduled all my appointments between 12 and 2 p.m. on a Saturday, New York's golden hour of apartment hunting.

Besides sparing me from running around town catering to everyone's schedule but mine, the two-hour time-frame gave prospective tenants the impression they had all the time in the world, a plus for yours truly.

Eventually, a girl who we'll call Julie agreed to take the room. Mission accomplished! Or so I thought ...

"But why?" I pleaded. It was 11:40 p.m. and four days before we were set to renew the lease.

"Um, my new job's going to pay for my rent," he said flatly. "Stop being such a (expletive) about it."

With that, he diva walked up our spiral staircase, leaving the Pandora's box of D-R-A-M-A wide open.

I figured I had three choices: Fight for the place and race against time to find a new roommate, sign the lease with two people, which would buy time to find a subletter or strike out on my own, scratching the plan altogether.

Option 2 would send my credit down the drain if I couldn't find a third roommate to help pay.

And Option 3, moving out, would be a costly ordeal. 

I settled on Option 1, dusted off my shoulders and arranged another open house.

It soon dawned on me that many apartment hunters will "future fake," or tell you what you want to hear to keep you on the hook in case their room of choice falls through.

It's like dating, but way more expensive when you're on a lease and left holding the money bag.

Here's how I spotted the fakers:

One girl promised she'd move in ASAP and wanted "write the check, right now." She bailed hours later.

Julie's communication ran hot and cold. She was unsure ...

A personal trainer said he couldn't afford the deposit. He also had terrible credit.

A candidate said he was "shopping around." I didn't wait to hear from him.

"Sorry," read her text, "but my credit sucks and my parents won't co-sign for me."

I didn't freak out—not yet, anyway. I knew to protect myself from a Craigslist future faker by having a Plan B, C and D.

I made a list of the candidates who seemed most reliable, then told each of them I'd offer them the room. Four of the five flaked, but one agreed to take the room.

At this point, I had my future roommates send the landlord all their information, making sure to cc me on every email.

I also made sure to get their deposits in person—there's just something about holding someone else's money that makes them less likely to flake on you.

We renewed our lease last weekend and the dreadful saga ended.

So check out the pros and cons to getting your own pad in New York City >