Man Alone: My Roommate
Friday, June 16, 2006
Robin was in Spain for two months and I was pissed off about it. I’d always take little jabs during our phone conversations and bitch about my day.
Because I was a baby.
But, if you needed proof that I was firmly under her control despite the miles between us and my angsty disposition, I had a roommate for about three weeks out of that two month period. Robin’s best friend, Gerry.
He was in DC on an internship and Robin asked me if he could stay with me until he found an apartment – a process that took several weeks. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world but sharing a studio apartment with a dude wasn’t the best thing, either.
Here’s what I couldn’t do for three straight weeks:
1) Masturbate
That’s really all that matters. He’d get groceries, though, and occasionally cook, but for the most part he’d just kind of sit around and play video games because what else are you going to do in a studio apartment?
He had his own friends and I had mine, we’d both go our own separate ways at night. He’d something hang out with my people but I never met any of his people. Robin would call and talk to both of us, tell us how her trip was going. She was spending the majority of her time in Madrid but would occasionally take day or weekend trips to other parts of Spain. She had a weekend coming up in Ibiza, something that bothered me to no end at the time, and I was pretty vocal (behind her back) about her need to go to a party island with a bunch of “single bitches”.
Whereas my losing attitude might turn you off, my fears over the Ibiza situation weren’t completely unfounded but that’s a story for another day.
Gerry finally finds a place – he rents a room somewhere off K-street – and I don’t see him again until it’s time to move. Helping me move was part of the deal for being allowed to stay at my place.
It wasn’t the worst couple of weeks. It was weird having a male roommate, the last one I had was sophomore year in college - it was never my thing, it seems. I like living with the ladies. I think the day he left I managed to jerk-off about five times. I get backed up, it’s like genetic and stuff. The really funny Gerry stories come into play when he moves into my new apartment but, again, that’s a story for another day.
Because I was a baby.
But, if you needed proof that I was firmly under her control despite the miles between us and my angsty disposition, I had a roommate for about three weeks out of that two month period. Robin’s best friend, Gerry.
He was in DC on an internship and Robin asked me if he could stay with me until he found an apartment – a process that took several weeks. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world but sharing a studio apartment with a dude wasn’t the best thing, either.
Here’s what I couldn’t do for three straight weeks:
1) Masturbate
That’s really all that matters. He’d get groceries, though, and occasionally cook, but for the most part he’d just kind of sit around and play video games because what else are you going to do in a studio apartment?
He had his own friends and I had mine, we’d both go our own separate ways at night. He’d something hang out with my people but I never met any of his people. Robin would call and talk to both of us, tell us how her trip was going. She was spending the majority of her time in Madrid but would occasionally take day or weekend trips to other parts of Spain. She had a weekend coming up in Ibiza, something that bothered me to no end at the time, and I was pretty vocal (behind her back) about her need to go to a party island with a bunch of “single bitches”.
Whereas my losing attitude might turn you off, my fears over the Ibiza situation weren’t completely unfounded but that’s a story for another day.
Gerry finally finds a place – he rents a room somewhere off K-street – and I don’t see him again until it’s time to move. Helping me move was part of the deal for being allowed to stay at my place.
It wasn’t the worst couple of weeks. It was weird having a male roommate, the last one I had was sophomore year in college - it was never my thing, it seems. I like living with the ladies. I think the day he left I managed to jerk-off about five times. I get backed up, it’s like genetic and stuff. The really funny Gerry stories come into play when he moves into my new apartment but, again, that’s a story for another day.
posted by Jason at
12:33 AM
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