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Do you remember Liam? The guy from my story "The Double Treat"? He didn't disappear right after our fling ended. We stayed friends for many years after that. In those years, I made a friend called Sandy. A troubled girl that needed help. But before I start telling my story, I'll introduce myself for those who don't know me yet. I'm Luna, pleased to make your acquaintance. So back to Sandy, you'll love her... at first.
A quick summary; I met Sandy at college. I don't remember why we talked, who introduced us or where it was, but I remember one thing, her sad eyes. She was mutilating herself at the time. So, with my big heart and big ear and a big stupid idea, I gave her my number if she needed to talk. We were friends for 3 years before university. She dropped out of school and moved in another town. I chose the same town when I finished college and she said: "You should move with us." So, if you are wondering who the second part of the "us" was, it was Liam. I wasn't convinced that it was a good bet, but when you're a student, paying less rent is always a good idea. So, I went for it even though I slept with the guy once (she didn't know that) and the fact she was my friend.
So, to establish a time line, she invited me to live with them around Christmas. I was moving there the next August, so 8 months later. I am a really organized person. I make plans way before I should normally do to avoid the unpredictable. I don't always succeed...
In April, Liam called me. He and Sandy were separated. So, he gave me a choice. I could move with him and we would have found an apartment or stay with Sandy, who already had one. Remember Liam was my friend first, but I made my choice based on logic and safety. Liam was an impulsive guy with money trouble and Sandy was stable (for the moment) and she had a well-paid job. So, I chose her over him. I regretted that a few months later...
Around mid-June, she called me. "I have bad news. My father is moving with me for a job he got here so you can't come live with us." I was at the verge of a panic attack because I was supposed to move there in less than two months. My inscription was done, my stuff almost all packed, I was almost ten hours’ drive away and she had the nerve to tell me that she was f****** sorry. I didn't cry, but I came close. If you are wondering about Liam, he returned to live with his parents, in another town, so no back up plan there. I had to find a place to live really quick (without seeing the actual apartment 'cause I was a trillion miles away). So, the next week or so, internet was my best friend. I finally found something. A young couple was renting a room in their place and it was in my budget (300$/month) pretty awesome! Here's starting the roommates adventures, pretty terrible experiences...
They were responding by the names of Marvin and Natasha. Seemed awesome, an open couple (not in this way, you twisted mind!) and really nice. All those nice things changed really fast. When you got to know them, they weren't as charming as the first impression. Marvin was an alcoholic who was treating Natasha really badly. He was a macho, he drank and drove, he was looking at every cute girl that came across his path and, sometime, more than looking. He was a real jerk. Natasha wasn't the brightest either. She was narcissistic, nymphomaniac, she had a glass eye (nothing to do with the rest, but it was funny looking) and a superficial. I was incompatible with this couple. However, I wasn't the only one who rented a room there. Another couple had the room at the end of the corridor. Very nice couple, I liked having them around, but they were rarely home. In December, one of my gay best friends (GBF) decided to move in the same town I was, so without hesitation, we found an apartment and moved together in January. In summary, I moved with the crazy couple in August and moved out in January. Five long months...
I hate packing...
Let me tell you something, moving in winter, in a snow storm, isn't really (to be polite) nice. On top of that, I just received my brand-new plasma 42" television, still in the box. I needed to move that in a Civic 1998 (remember when those cars were small), so we had to unboxed the television in order to fit it in the tiny car of his. I didn't have much at first. No furniture, no dishes, just a TV and my personal belonging. Aiden (my GBF) and I finished pack the car and we took off. Nobody was home when I moved, I never saw Marvin nor Natasha again. I didn't even said goodbye (I had my reasons).
Saved from those two, I was finally living with someone I knew. Aiden was the sweetest guy I've known at the time. He was generous, energetic, funny, brilliant and a lot more. But you know what they say... You never completely know a person until you live with him...
First month was awesome, we were partying, watching movies, had fun, talked, worked and things started to change. Suddenly he was comfortable enough to leave his things everywhere in the apartment. I don't say that I'm perfect, far from perfection, but I know I have to keep my things out of the common areas. My room was a mess but it's my space. You see, I'm accepting all kind of people, but I'm not accepting make up in the sink, boxers all over the bathroom's floor, socks all around the place and dirty dishes in the kitchen sink (not mine btw). So, we were arguing most of the time.
We weren't doing well. They say you learn to hate your friends in apartment. Sadly, that's what happened with me and Aiden. At the end of my school year, I was looking for another apartment and another roommate. I found one, another guy (why am I not learning ha-ha). In May, I returned to see my mother for the summer in my hometown. My friend Jayson came pick me up in his BMW. If a Civic had no place for luggage, his BMW had much less. He put a big subwoofer in his trunk, so no space there. Anyway, at this day, I never saw Aiden again.
I have furniture now... I hate moving.
I knew Chris through other people. He came from Martinique. I don't know how it works in his country, but he started our colocation with the idea that I was going to cook, do the cleaning and the dishes. Let me assure you that he hit a brick wall, 'cause where I come from, we are talking about gender equality. So, you wanna eat food, you cook it with me, you wanna live in a clean area, you'll do half the chores and you wanna eat in a clean plate with clean utensils, you do the dishes with me. It's simple as that. I have to add, I didn't understand when he talked. I don't lie and I don't exaggerate, he talked with a bunch of hot potatoes in his mouth. It was so tough to understand what he was saying, it still haunts my dreams (just kidding ha-ha).
So, when I first met him, I thought: “OMG, the guy’s hot” and a few months later I was moving with him (I didn’t see that coming). It was strictly a platonic roommate situation, no feelings there. It took me 2 months to understand his slang and the same amount of time to not-like-him-so-much after all. If he was charming at first, he was now only a cheater, a pathological liar and uglier outside and inside by the day.
If you read one of my other stories before “The Violence of Hurricane Noah” you know I’m not girly and I advocate gender equality and non-violent behavior. Chris was cheating on his girlfriend and I knew it because he was bragging about it on the phone with his friends. One thing you should know, our apartment had thinner walls than a paper sheet. So, despite another room between ours, I could hear everything he was doing in his room (like everything…). When he was taking a shower (my room was just beside the bathroom), he was singing really badly and really loudly as well. One time it was 7 AM and he had school in the morning, I didn’t. He took a shower and sang horribly the song on his phone. I’m patient in general, but not when you wake me up like this. I yelled, banging on the wall “Shut the f*** up.” And he did. He was always taking near an hour in the bathroom each day. It was like living with a girly girl (you know what I mean?).
So much happened with Chris in a year that it would be too long to tell all of it. In summary, we fought a lot and everything about him disgusted me at the end. I never saw him again either.!!
Living alone felt exactly like the image below... Paradise!
Fourth and FINAL Move
I found a cute brand-new apartment in my school's neighborhood. A peaceful haven for 500$/month. I was ALONE at last. I could mess up my place if I wanted, don’t do the dishes if I didn’t feel like it and practice nudism (curtain’s close) if I’d like. For the three years after, I lived like a queen, alone in my palace of well-earned solitude.
It took me a year to speak with Sandy again, I was too pissed off to let go. But now I realize, I never should've talk to her again. She was a toxic friend, she needed help, but wouldn't admit it. The time I spent with her was heavy and depressing. I'm not a therapist and I never will be. In the present days, I'm free of her for some times now. And you, do you have a Sandy in your entourage?