I have never lived in a house or an apartment by myself. I have always had someone living with me, be it family, wife, girlfriend, or room mates. I am not sure I could deal with being alone once I left the office...I need the ambient noise of a person going about their business. A empty house, even if the TV or stereo is on, unnerves me.
I have lived with 1 girlfriend, 2 wives (obviously at different times), and 7 different room mates. I wanted to expound a bit on previous "Chronicles" entries by telling you about some of my "bad" room mates (the ones that didn't work out so well) so I decided to make a separate chapter about them in "Chronicles". You are now reading some of those experiences.
After my (then) wife left me and moved to NC, I was not able to make ends meet on my own, so I asked a former class mate, JR, if he wanted to move in. He had just gotten out of the Navy and was working at a local steak house as a bus boy. JR and I did not make good room mates. I can tolerate a lot when I have to but his habits were a bit over the top for me. I once came home from work and found him and his new girlfriend in the throws of passion on my couch. I never sat on that couch again.
JR also liked to party. One night he decided to host a little get together at our place and bought a keg and invited a few people. Like most parties, those people invited people and it got a little out of hand. I am so glad that my neighbors did not call the police. Had they, the city jail would have had a few new residents that night. Just about anything that you would expect bad to find at a party was there (drugs, alcohol, underage females). When all was said and done, I told JR that he was NEVER going to host a party ever again. When my (then) wife wanted to reconcile a couple of months later, I jumped at the chance and moved to NC. I gave JR a two weeks notice and moved. All his stuff was placed on the front porch on moving day (since he rarely showed up to the house anymore) and a note was left with telling him that if he went inside, he would be trespassing. My father helped enforce that.
After 18 months of attempting to make things work with my wife, I moved my stuff into "The Axe Murderer" and Roy/Ray's (I could never remember which it was) apartment a few miles away. I was very happy that they let me sleep on their couch for a few weeks until I found a place of my own, but it was a hard 25 days.
My first or second night there, I woke up with the strangest feeling I was being watched. When I opened my eyes, a strange, rough looking young woman was sitting with her back to the wall staring at me. I jumped and she screamed. I found out that she had been beaten and raped by her husband/boyfriend and was hiding out with Ray/Roy. I felt sorry for her so I took her to the corner store an bought her a sausage biscuit and some juice. We talked (I had to make her feel comfortable enough to let go of the HUGE knife she had with her) until she was tired and then I walked her back to tghe apartment. I slept with one eye open until morning. The girl worried me.
A week or two later, I fell asleep on the floor watching TV. When I woke up, a completely different girl was cuddled up beside me. I rolled over with a start (waking up to a couple of women holding knives makes one a bit nervous as well as a light sleeper) and she woke up. "I was only trying to keep warm", she said in a sleepy voice. Not being able to get back to sleep, I got ready for work. Sarah (I do not recall her real name) decided she did not want to go back to sleep either. She followed me around the apartment while I was getting ready for work and even stood in the bathroom while I was showering, chattering away (the bathroom lock was broken). I sincerely believe all she really wanted was someone to listen.
After I finished with my shower (she finally left so I could get dressed) we chatted a bit more and found out (among other things) that she was a runaway Ray/Roy had taken in. I was beginning to feel like this was a homeless shelter. It was not long after that more people started spending the night, sleeping in any available area. These guests would stay up late and keep me awake until 2-3 in the morning. I had been looking for a place to move into but so far nothing was materializing. I needed to step up my search.
Since I had not paid the guys anything since I arrived, I decided to go to the store to buy some groceries. I always ate out (I lived on $5 a day...seriously) until that time and thought it would be nice to have some stuff around the house. I bought $50 worth of staples (bread, milk, lunch meat, cereal, apples, bananas, etc) and it was gone in 2 days...I am not even sure I had one meal. They also got a notice that the electric was going to be turned off so I bargained with the electric company to keep it on for a week longer if I paid them $50. At least I prolonged the power until I left. Selfish, yes...but I was not in any financial shape to do more.
My last night in the apartment with Ray/Roy and The Axe Murderer some limo driver spent the night on the floor in the dining room and I noticed when I got up the next morning that he was packing heat. I was very worried and decided that I picked a good time to get out. I borrowed a truck from a colleague at work and moved all my stuff into my next residence, Fredville.
The first real "official" room mates were Fred and Patrick. Fred, a NMT (Nuclear Medical Technician) at Duke University Medical Center and the owner of the house, rented rooms to me and Patrick. Fred lived downstairs and and Patrick and I had rooms at opposite ends of house upstairs. Fred was a bit of a neat freak and was always on our case about something. He was also very nosy and searched my room on more than one occasion. Fred was also gay and his overtly effeminate mannerisms were quite humorous to Patrick and me (up until this point I had not known many if any openly gay men). Every other week his "partner" would drive up from Atlanta to spend the weekend with Fred and Patrick and I would make sure that we were not home. Say what you will to or about me, but I do not have to be in the vicinity of behavior I did not believe in. I did not care if I had to sleep in my car at a rest stop, I did not stay there unless I came in very very late and left only after they did.
Fred also had cat that freely roamed the house, upstairs as well as downstairs. I do not like cats, so I kept my bedroom door shut all the time to keep the furry, shedding little beast out. Fred did not like that (telling me to leave my door open when I was not home) and it soon became obvious that his cat would be a major source of conflict between us. It was only one of many things that caused me to leave.
Once I came home (Fred was not home yet) and found some cat vomit on the living room carpet. Me, not wanting it to stain, did my best to clean it up, but the damage had already been done. I had to leave before Fred came home so I did not get to tell him about it. The next day when I saw him, he accused me of spilling soda on the floor. I told him the cat had puked and I attempted to clean it up and he gave me the third degree about it. I was a bit miffed but bit my tongue. 2 or 3 weeks later, I came home and found another puddle of pussycat puke in the carpet, so I left it. Patrick came home and almost stepped in it. "El, did you see that puke? We better clean it up". I told him that I was not going to and when he asked me why, I told him. His eyes lit up and then he told me that he had been blamed for the stain as well. "Okay, we'll leave it", he said and that was that...until Fred came home.
Patrick and I were in the living room (we rarely went downstairs to watch TV after the "video tape incident") watching something mindless when Fred came home and He saw the puke. He asked Patrick and I why we didn't clean it up and I told him bluntly, "I learned my lesson last time, Fred."
"Last time? What last time?" he asked.
"Oh yeah...the last time your cat puked and I cleaned it up it left a stain and you blamed me. Later you blamed Patrick for the same thing. I don't like being blamed for things I did not do." With that, I left. Fred never blamed me for stains again...even the ones I did create. However I bet that his cat, Kyrie was not so lucky.
There was one other major issue that Patrick and I disagreed with Fred about and that was the bills. Fred told both of us that every month, we would get an itemized bill of our share of the utilities. We never actually saw the bills, just a total...it was far from itemized. The first month I got my bill, it seemed high, so I asked Fred to let me see the originals. He got very defensive but finally agreed. Fred had made a mathematical error of about $20 and had included some items that were not mine (some long distance phone calls, charges for the cable box in his room and one other that I cannot remember). I paid him what was due and he took it, but he was not happy. The next month, the same thing happened. So again I asked Fred to see the bills. This time he refused. I told him either show me the bills or he was only going to get the amount that I had paid last month. He was not happy. About that time Patrick walks over and asks what the problem was and he says, "Yeah, I thought last month's bill looked a bit off." We all discuss it and Fred finally gets out the bills. I told him that if he would just leave the utilities out for us we could pay our share now questions asked and if he had any issues he could come to us. That was not acceptable to him and needless to say he never gave us itemized bills...only a sticky note on our door with what he said we owed.
Before I moved in, Fred ran an ad in the local paper offering a room for rent. I called the number and Patrick answered. I felt like I was being interrogated as we discussed the availability of the room.
"Yeah, I am calling about the room. Is it still available?"
"I think so...I really am not sure...Fred, the owner is at work, I am the other room mate, Patrick."
"Nice talking to you Patrick. I find myself needing a place to stay...kinda quickly. I am recently separated."
"Oh, you are married? To a woman?"
"Uhhh yeah..."
I later found out that the last upstairs room mate (across the hall from Patrick) was a gay Iranian college student who had a thing for teen boys and Patrick was hoping that the next tenant would be straight. When Fred got home, Patrick put in a good word for me. He told Fred, "You gotta rent to this guy...he sounds very dependable." Thanks Patrick.
Patrick was a good guy. Like me, he was having marriage issues, but unlike me, his were alcohol related. We never hung out much (he liked to play golf and I didn't) but we did watch TV and talked once in a while, that is until the "Video tape incident". After that, I was afraid to push play on a VCR for a long time. Let me explain.
Patrick and I were home at the same time one day...a rarity for both of us. He had a date later with a cute thing he met at one of his AA meetings and had some time to kill, so he turned on the TV to catch some baseball. He noticed that the VCR was on, but not recording anything, so he pushed play to see what it was. Big mistake. I have seen pr0n before...I am not proud of that but I have. However gay pr0n is not something that I ever want to see again. I must have gone through a case of mental floss and a thousand hours of Sesame Street to rid my mind of those images. I guess that explains the party Fred had the night before. After that, I rarely left my room when Fred was home.
Patrick decided to give his marriage another shot about 5 months after I moved in. Fred wanted to find another room mate and I told him I knew someone who was looking for a place. I told him about Ken, a former co-worker at Circuit City. I called Ken and he interviewed with Fred. Ken wrote Fred a check and he moved right in. Like Patrick, I wanted some say in who would be sharing the upstairs where I lived.
Ken and Fred did not get along at all. Ken was a messy guy and Fred could not stand clutter. I knew that Ken and Fred not get along, but I wanted to make sure no gay Iranian college students moved in. I decided to take the initiative to have Ken meet Fred. A couple of weeks after Ken moved in, I moved out of Fredville and moved in to Landshark's old room at Rob's house. Fred immediately pulled out the homosexual activist mantra, "It's because I am gay, isn't it?" I told him that while I did not approve of his lifestyle, it was his ethics (the bills, him coming into my room, the cat issues) that was the primary reason and that A better situation was to be had with another group of room mates.
My timing was good in many ways...Fred had planned on moving to Atlanta and selling the house...and not tell the tenants until it was too late. Ken was able to find a place but what Fred did was low, even for him. To make matters worse, 30 days after I moved out, Fred called me to tell me I owed him money for the last months utilities. I just told him to take it out of the security deposit I had already paid and he refused. He told me that I would pay him the utilities and if he thought I deserved my Sec Dep back, he would mail it. Right...and I am the king of England. He had no plans to give me my money back. I was happy for Ken that he never paid Fred a deposit like I did. I really did not lose anything. My deposit was just about enough to cover my last months share of the utilities.
I am so glad I do not have to deal with that any more!
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