I got a little story for ya. Proof that the crap you see on talk shows can actually happen.
I was dating this girl, we’ll call her Whore (just kidding – we still get along, actuallly), for about four years. Granted, it was one of those on-again off-again sort of affairs, but I had thought that things were finally straightened out between us, and I was committed for the long haul. We moved in together and got a cat (whom I still have – what can I say? The cat liked me better) and everything was going very well. At about the time we were looking for a new place since our lease was up, her friend from work told her about this wonderful condo that belonged to her husbands sister who lived far away, whatever… It was a nice big place, and at a great price. More than we were paying, more than we could probably afford.
We had this other friend, who had just been screwed over by his roommate who had left town, and he had no place to live. He had actually been sleeping on the couch in his office for a couple of weeks. We had known him for about two years at this point, and we decided that he would make a good roomie, and we could move into this awesome condo.
(You see where this is going? Yeah, well I sure didn’t.)
After about six months, everything seemed pretty cool to me. My girlfriend goes on vaction to Nevada to see her parents. She returns and is acting sort of cold toward me all day long. Meanwhile, roomie is nowhere to be found. She gives me all these lovely gifts she picked up on her trip, and we have dinner, and then she says, “We need to talk.”
I don’t know about you, but in my experience, whenever someone prefaces any sort of conversation by first stating that they need to talk, it ain’t good. Sure enough:
“I’m not in love with you anymore. I’m in love with someone else.”
“Who?”
“[roommate’s name here]”
“Shit.”
I storm off, but eventually come back and manage to get all three of us to sit down in the living room to discuss. We are calm, rational adults about the whole thing, surprisingly enough. Turns out that they wouldn’t mind moving out, and even offered to pay the rent on the place in addition to wherever they ended up. Too good to be true, so I didn’t ask them to do that, luckily. Bottom line is, none of us were in any position to go anywhere, soooooo… all her stuff moves out of my room across the hall to his room. And there we stayed… for a while.
No, it wasn’t easy. But they were both feeling so damned guilty about the whole thing, that I got away with a bit. I never had to do the dishes, for example.
He ends up being screwed out of his half of the business that he started with another friend (people are always screwing him over – I often reflected on the meaning of this, but would always just start giggling), and can’t seem to get a job. Our cable gets shut off, since it was in his name. She ends up paying both their shares of the rent for a while, but eventually she can’t keep up, so…
we all get kicked out of the place!!.
So I’m thinking that moving in with this guy is just the BEST thing I’ve ever done…
… which it may have been. Looking back, I don’t think I was appropriately upset when it all went down. There was a strange calm about things, which I now understand could have been relief. I got my own place and lived on my own for a year, something I hadn’t done in a long time. It was very healthy for me, and I figured out a lot about myself.
Now, to prove that these things all move in circles… a sub-plot…
This same ex-girlfriend of mine had a best friend in the town they grew up in. I met her a couple of times when I visited, and introduced her to my best friend from my hometown. They dated for a while, but it didn’t work out. However, they remained friends, and she was invited to his wedding a while back. Of course, I was at the wedding too, and we fell madly in love. Now, I have moved across the country for her, and we live together in bliss.
True story.
