#laterpost: Cohabitating Post
Editorial note: I wrote this 4 years ago. It seems I removed it from my blog for the purpose of keeping people anonymous, but it has been 4 years and I haven’t written a blog in forever. So here’s a #laterpost (similar to a #latergram) for you to enjoy while I slowly work my way back into blogging consistently again. You’re welcome!
So, don’t tell my parents, but for a week right after I moved into my new place, I had a house-mate. We’ll call him Carl. So for a week Carl was living in my house … like had keys, had his friends come over to my place, went to bed and woke up next to each other-lived with me. Sure, you’re thinking one of a few things: (1) What’s the big deal? A SLORE like you should be used to having guys around all the time. (2) People do this all the time…this is not blog worthy. (3) Really? Carl!?! His name is Carl…? Allow me to address each of these questions that I imagine you (one of 5 readers) are asking yourself. (1) STFU. That’s just mean. And pretty much entirely untrue. (2) Yes, PEOPLE do cohabitate regularly. I am not people. I am me; and I have never lived with a person with whom I have dated/hooked up/engaged in coitus prior to this week. (3) No. Of course his name is not Carl. I haven’t used a real name on this blog in a REALLY long time. Although – hint – he’s been mentioned in at least 1 other blog post.
Anyway; since this was my first experience at cohabitating, I made notes about the things I learned about doing it (no, not IT…though that happened also) with a FWB (for lack of a better term). Please enjoy and learn from me and Carl.
10. Coming home drunk with my best friend when Carl is at my place leads to a ton more laughing and giggling than any other night coming home drunk. We tentatively planned to jump on him and wake him up…we did not succeed. Mostly because he was still awake, but probably more realistically because we punked out. If you know me at all, his awake state would be no deterrent for me. After the fact we decided it would have been funnier to scream “INTRUDER!!!” and make a fake gun loading sound.
9. I still do not sharing my shower time. I’ve said this many times before (and you may have heard it also) I like “Debbie Shower Time.” It’s my time to get clean – at least on the outside – as well as think and process the day or day before. Some of my best ideas happen in the shower. This is hard to do when you’re focused on the other person who is blocking your water stream while you have shampoo suds all over your hands and shoulders and dripping into the one eye you’re squinting to try to salvage in the bubble storm.
8. I thoroughly enjoy coming home and having my dog already walked. Don’t get me wrong, I am sickly in love with Captain Perfect Pants (Gizmo’s alias), but I love that I got to come home and cuddle immediately. What you may not know about poodles (therefore poodle mutts as well as cocker spaniels) is that they pee when they get very excited. It’s a breed thing. So when I get home I have to take him out immediately…unless someone is there. Like Carl.
7. When people are very thankful toward your hospitality (a weird twisted way of my accepting having constant action for a week) they tend to go out of their way to repay you. For example: buying dinner, buying drinks, giving you their old microwave, etc. This seems unnecessary, and as you may have guessed, I turned down every offer. NOT (Ohmigosh, 1993 called and they want their joke back…).
6. My place is crazy big.
I mean, I am aware of the square footage, but I was unaware of how many people could live in my house over a weekend and not feel cramped. By the dubs, the answer is at least 4. Carl, his friend – Trent – Katybug and I were all here one weekend…at the same time. Although, now that I have legitimate furniture, there may be less room for everyone… oh well. I doubt I’ll be finding this out anytime soon. EDITORS NOTE: I have since had 9 people sleep there for a weekend. That was fun!
5. It’s really difficult to talk to people about what you did the night before when you’re not telling people about your housemate. Saying that you went out to dinner and then saying you went alone because the person you’re conversing with asked about the company you kept…well it not only sounds sad and desperate, it’s also a lie… and I hate liars. Except myself. I love myself. I also love my lies.
4. A bed is never big enough for two full sized humans and a 11 pound perfect angel of cuteness. Giz ended up sleeping on a pillow on the floor for a few nights. When he did make it up into the bed, he slept between the two of us. My mother would have given him a puppy high five for that shit. Cockblock of a gremlin…
3. I had to go back to pretending that I’m not selfish. I HAD to send texts to let Carl know if we were having dinner together or not. I let him know when I was leaving work. I had to text and find out if CPP (Giz) had been taken out and/or fed… there were so many things to check on. Not at all like living alone and only having to care about numero uno. In case you missed it, this item on the list is basically called “proof that Debbie is a selfish brat and only cares about things that directly effect her.”
2. I really like having my own space. I mean, I loved my past roommates, but when your bedroom is already occupado, it’s less convenient to go to your room and relax and do nothing at all. Everything I normally do all by my lonesome is no longer an available luxury. From talking on the phone gossiping about life to watching porn, farting, going #2…everything runs the risk of being noticed by the person laying next to you in bed. Mother loving eaves droppers…
1. I am amazing at compartmentalizing. For better or for worse, I am great at being in a relationship situation and not feel attached or like I am in a relationship with the other person. I don’t know if this is good or bad, but it is what it is!
Ok, admittedly, not the best or funniest blog I’ve written… but give me a break – I haven’t gotten a Cosmo magazine in like 2 months!!!