The title of this post is a little silly, only because, of COURSE I've had an apartment before!
That's what it was called in college when I lived with 3 roommates in a two-bedroom cardboard box where they gouged us on the deposit for carpet cleaning.
And, that's what it was called the next year, when I lived in a house with "my very own room" (complete with termites in the closet and a landlord who I'm pretty sure lived in the Caribbean, or somewhere else very far away. With all of our rent money.)
And, I'm pretty sure it was called an "apartment" when I lived with 5 other girls my senior year in a complex directly above a Chipotle, Coldstone Creamery, and Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. It is a miracle I am not 500 pounds right now, people.
BUT! I am in my first adult apartment. My first, "I only have one roommate if you don't include the 80 lb pooch I can't stop taking pictures of," apartment. My first, "I can leave all the knitting stuff I want strewn around my room and no one else will care," apartment. My first, "now I understand why all these women on TV live alone even when there's an axe murderer running around the town," apartment! Ok you get the idea.
Overall...I'm pretty pleased.