I've been inviting strangers into my home lately to look at my apartment. I'm heading out of town for the summer and although I wish I could afford it all - Bi-coastal living! Ah, to dream, perchance to rack up frequent flier miles! - something's got to go, mainly my sweet little loft on the southside of Williamsburg.

That's south of the bridge, one block away from the old Domsey's, if you're trying to find it.

So I ask friends on bulletin boards to forward my ad, I post on Friendster and Craig's List, I hope for someone great to come along, someone who can pay all the rent up front, who will take care of my cat, who will build bookshelves or leave me nice furniture when the summer is over. Mostly I'm looking for someone who will appreciate my place, enjoy reading my books for example, or love the industrial ceilings, or revel in the fact that when you wake up in the morning you are high up in the air on a comfy loft. (It's like a little nest up there, I swear.)

But all the things I love about my apartment may not appeal to others. I know that. I'm not a moron. I remember when my mom came and stayed with me she asked, "Are the ceilings supposed to look like that? Shouldn't there be paint on them?" Mom was worried my landlord had skimped on my place. And while I think it's sort of funny that my apartment faces a yeshiva where young Hassidic girls sit Monday-Friday, being taught subservience in a male-dominated religious sect, others might not find it so amusing.

"I keep the curtains closed sometimes," I explain to my potential subletters. "Like when I'm naked or doing anything, you know, intimate."

I could see how this restriction might be unappealing, an infringement on certain rights. Sometimes when you're feeling sexy, you don't want to stop and take the time to close curtains. And some folks like to sleep naked and wake up in the morning with open curtains. Or walk around an apartment after a shower, doing stretches or jumping jacks or whatever, and they want the goddamn sun shining in on all their bits and pieces.

My apartment is probably not the place for that type of person, though I'd like to spend the weekend at their house sometime.

It's true in my house the closing of the curtains signifies something special. It makes my nudity and sexuality feel a little taboo, a little 1950s perhaps. Which is exactly how they want those young Hassidic girls to feel, I suppose. That sexuality in the service of anything but God is forbidden. But rather than making me feel like I'm doing something wrong, the act of closing the curtains turns me on. The Hassidic culture can never change the dirty, dirty mind of the modern girl.

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