The Geography of Romance

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As a writer, I've always fantasized about giving up my small, cramped apartment in Brooklyn and moving out to a converted farmhouse in Upstate New York. If I had a house with a backyard and no neighbors, then I could finally write that novel I've been talking about for years. I'd buy unpasteurized cheeses from the farmers market and become friends with the proprietor of the local tavern. I'd stop wearing makeup and shopping at H&M.

But for most of the past ten years, I've been single. So while fleeing the city would have allowed me to live out my writer-in-the-country fantasy, it would have meant the slow death of my dating life. In the country, I feared there would be far fewer single, eligible men to choose from. Sure, there'd be plenty of rugged types, but ruggedly handsome—and smart and charming? Only in the movies.

Then last year, I met my current boyfriend. He is handsome (sometimes ruggedly so) and smart and charming. And although he doesn't live in the country, he has carpentry skills to spare. We recently moved into an apartment together, and I've found myself with even less space. Once again, the country fantasy has resurfaced. A wide, open space—where at the very least I could have my own corner—has become even more enticing.