The Texan and the Single Mom--sounds like a Danielle Steel Novel, doesn't it?

Or else a Lifetime movie.  But I digress.

So, the two new roommates moved in about the same time school got started back up again.  The first one we had confirmation on was the soon to be single mom.  She had a good relationship with her parents, as was evidenced by the fact that her mom was with her when she came to look at the apartment, so to this day, I'm really not sure why she didn't just move in with them, especially since she's on welfare.  But anyway, she's nice and fun and we get along well, and I was excited to have a little baby around.

Enter the Texan.

First of all, I hate Texas with a passion.  I hate what it stands for, I don't like the politics, I don't like the gung-ho religious fundamentalism and their distrust of all things perceived to be liberal.  And I really hate football and guns.  And Dr. Pepper.  I could go on.

But anyway, the guy moved in, and for whatever reason, he ends up paying more than what the rent was originally, but of course, he doesn't know that.  Sometimes I wish he did.  Things started off okay.  He moved in and he mostly kept to himself and talked to the Single Mom.  He and BF had a lot of nerd stuff in common, so there was that.  On the other hand, he bugs the crap out of me.

Let's start with his personality.  He's an inserter.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with my term, let me explain it to you.  Let's say that you and another person are having a conversation, or you are having a conversation with a group of friends.  An inserter will come along and "insert" himself into the conversation, without being invited or asked an opinion, adding things he or she thinks is relevant, but nine times out of ten is just plain annoying.  And he does this ALL the flipping time.  BF and I will be having a conversation, and he just throws things out and tries to join in.  I'm sorry, but I don't think it's too much to ask to have a flipping private conversation with my boyfriend in my house not in my bedroom!!!!!!

It's gotten to the point that I will just stop talking when that happens, and yet BF doesn't pick up on that, and he will either continue to ask me stuff, or just start conversing with the Texan, which is even more annoying because we didn't get to finish our original conversation.  FUCK!

Sorry, I'm really pissed right now.  There was an incident today, which I will get to later, and I'm still upset about it.

I got so frustrated that I posted something on Yelp.  It describes the situation in more detail than I have the energy to write right now.  Below is the relevant excepts:

Originally he was supposed to be going to school when he came out here, but I guess he missed his registration date, and so he currently spends his days sleeping, eating, and either playing video games or watching TV.  But whatever, if that's how he wants to spend his life, fine.  I mean, it does bother me that I have such an unproductive member of society in my house, but what can you do?  He does pay the rent (albeit, we had some trouble with that initially), using money from his mother's 401K.

Here's what bugs me: he's a bit of a slob.  Now, when he moved in, my boyfriend told him the rules of the house were basically no smoking inside, clean up after yourself, and pay the rent on time.  Other than that, he can do whatever he wants.  Those have been his rules since before I moved in with him, and since it is his house, I try to stay away from the business end of things.  The problem with that is this guy is really untidy.  Now, for my part, I'm not Monica (from FRIENDS) or anything, but I do like to keep the common areas (kitchen, living room) clean.  I especially hate having a dirty kitchen.  Nothing bothers me more than when I go to cook a meal and there's a sink full of dirty dishes, old pizza boxes on the floor, and grease spatters from the last person who cooked.  So now, instead of cooking a meal, I have to clean the kitchen beforehand, then cook, then clean it afterwards--only to have him come in after me and leave his empty pizza box on the counter.  He doesn't even eat in the dining room--why not just take the box in your room???  This has happened more than once, and my boyfriend, as landlord, apparently has told him to clean up after himself, and, according to said boyfriend, the guy says okay, but then doesn't do it.  Or if he does actually manage to wash a dish, there is still a layer of grease or a speck of food on it, and I just have to wash it myself anyway.

Aside from that, he will also take clothes out of the dryer (when he's not even using it yet) without seeing if they are dry first, which, if I don't catch this in time, causes the clothes to mildew and then need to be washed again.  I swear, this guy has no home training whatsoever.  That one caused me to put a note on the dryer that said, "If you're taking out someone else's clothes, please check to make sure they are completely dry, otherwise they will mildew and need to be washed again, and this wastes more time and money."  Very passive aggressive, I know, but I really don't know what else to do.
my boyfriend said he talked to the guy, and he said okay, and in my boyfriend's head, that's that.  He doesn't understand why I "get so frustrated over a pizza box."  Of course I'm not "frustrated about a pizza box."  It's the fact that I have been cleaning the kitchen all day, washing dishes that aren't all mine or my boyfriend's, and now I have someone put their trash on the counter, and unless I take the initative to clean it up, it will stay there until he orders another pizza (which will probably be two days).  It's the fact that the behavior doesn't seem to be stopping.  It's the fact that no matter how hard I try I can't seem to have a clean kitchen without guarding and cleaning all day and night.  And that's not fair.  Not when there are three other adults in the house.  Now, the single mom, for her part will clean up, but she has a baby to take care of, and I understand that.  And my boyfriend is in medical school, so he needs his study time, and I get that too.  He has worked really hard to have the highest GPA in his class.  Unfortunately for me, I'm the one whose grades and nerves are suffering.  Whenever I complain about this to my boyfriend, or he notices I'm upset and asks why, his solutions are always radical--"Do you want me to kick him out?"  "Maybe I should just get a new credit card and buy a dishwasher."

First of all, much as I would like to be rid of the lummox, we can't afford it.  Over the summer, we lost both of our renters and we were barely scraping by.  Granted, I really enjoyed living alone with my boyfriend, but he was always upset that he couldn't pay this bill or that bill, and everytime I'd suggest doing something that cost money, he'd flip out.  By the time these new renters moved in, we were so desperate, we took what we could get.  The problem is, with both of us going to school part time and working less than that, we really can't afford not to have renters, no matter how slovenly.

So I guess my question is this: how do I express without sounding like a bitch who doesn't want to clean that I'd like him to be cleaner, and do a better job of cleaning.  I mean, do I need to give him a dishwashing lesson?  Do I need to show him how to clean off the counters?  Honestly, I thought it would sound better coming from my boyfriend, because then he sounds like the concerned boyfriend who knows that his girlfriend is working her fingers to the bone to keep their house nice, not to mention that he is landlord and can kick anyone out at anytime.  I really want to know why he is so reluctant to say anything more to him.  I know why I am.  The guy is a total creeper.  He's big (both vertically and horizontally) and has that serial killer look about him (maybe I'm exaggerating a bit), but the fact that he takes his video games so seriously (he will yell and curse at the game) makes me nervous to be around him.  He's okay with my boyfriend, and is even pleasant, so maybe he doesn't see what I do.  I'm not good with confrontation anyway, and I tend to internalize things, which is probably why I'm always so frustrated--that, and I'm the only one who seems to do anything about the situation.  Anyway, I think I've yelped enough.  Thanks for listening.


Another thing that bothers me about the Texan is he has a story for everything.  I could say Cherry Banana Cumtwat and he would have a story about how this one time he met a stripper named Cherry Banana Cumtwat in Iowa while Tom Hanks was screaming at a skiing lama...or something.  I tend to tune out when he's talking.

I think the most frustrating part is that my boyfriend does not feel the same way as I do, and, in my opinion anyway, dismisses my concerns, or, if he says, okay, fine you can do this, or get this, like he's indulging me.  His excuse, or rather "justification", is that the guy is actually paying rent, so what's the big deal if he doesn't wash dishes or pick up after himself?  I'm sorry, the big deal is that I work my fingers to the bone to keep this house clean--by myself, I might add--with no one to help me of their own volition, and it fucking pisses me off that as fucking landlord you won't open your goddamn mouth to say anything because you can't live without being able to pay your goddamn bills, and...you know what, I'm too pissed off, I need to fucking go do something.

Roommates and Other Creatures

My BF does not know how to be poor.  It's not really his fault; he's never been poor, so he's never had to learn.  His whole life he's been upper middle class.  His parents were frugal, even though they made good money, and so have been able to support both him and his sister (and his sister's family) their whole lives.  Even when the BF became an adult, his generous family stepped in to give him anything and everything he wanted, or else he was making enough money to buy it himself.  He's worked hard to establish good credit and to pay his bills on time. 

For my part, I've always been poor.  I've always had enough to eat and clothes on my back, and I guess I would be considered wealthy in a third world country.  But my mother was always struggling to pay the bills, and my father I'm sure pretends I don't exist.  Everything I ever wanted I had to work hard for, save up for and earn.  I've never really had much disposable income, or, if I had, it was because I decided to splurge and buy something and not pay a bill.  If I don't have the money to pay a bill, I don't overdraw my bank account to do it, even if it takes me forever to catch up on it.  I'm not very good at saving, and I've never had an overabundance, but I've always had enough.

Unfortunately, times are not as good as they once were, and for the past couple of years, the BF has been struggling to pay everything from rent to bills for credit cards that he ran up when times were good.  As such, he has been forced to rent out two of the rooms in his house in order to make ends meet.  When I started dating him, he was renting out his rooms to a friend of his from high school, and this other lady that they knew.  Shortly after I came into the picture, he added in a friend of his and the friend's girlfriend.  They slept on the couch in the living room.  It was a good arrangement, I guess, although at times it felt like we were living in the Brady house.  Then it turned into the Real World.  First of all, the friend from high school lost his job around Christmas time, and, nice guy that my boyfriend is, he continued to let him live there rent free.  Idiot.  The BF would bring home job applications and telling the friend about places around the house that were hiring (the friend did not have a car and would have to walk) to no avail.  All he did was work on community theatre/semi professional theatre shows, drink, and pretty much be an asshole unless he wanted something from you.  Finally, at the urging of the other members of the household, BF got up the nerve to kick him out.  Or so we thought.  He decided to give the guy a month to find a job or he would be out.  In the mean time he kicked him out of his room and gave the couple the room (because they were actually paying him rent).  Though I was staying with him a lot at the time, I don't consider this when I moved in.  Three months after the first renter lost his job, the second renter lost hers.  But luckily, she had student loans and a husband to help send her money.

Anyway, just as the 30 days were about to be up, the deadbeat finally got a job, leading us to believe that he'd been lying about saying he had been looking all the months prior.  To make up for all the money he owed the BF, he was supposed to be paying 100 dollars extra every month until he was caught up.  But when it came time to pay up, he'd give this cock and bull story about how he hadn't worked as many hours as he'd thought he would, and he had to buy a bus pass, and blah blah blah.  And yet he magically had money to buy beer and cigarettes.  Imagine that.  A beer and cigarette fairy right here in our little town.  By this time the other members of the house had had it with him, and BF was getting pretty fed up as well.  At this point in the story, the other woman who was renting, who, heretofore had always paid her rent on time, did not have the rent.  She kept saying that her husband would be sending the money.  Every time BF asked, that was the story he got.  This happened almost every day for a month, or, well, at least every time he saw her.  Mostly she just hid out in her room that month.  But during this time, he's getting increasingly frustrated because it's becoming harder and harder for him to pay his bills.  And then the couple dropped a bombshell on us: they had decided to move to Texas at the end of the following month.  There went the one steady source of rent.

When it rains, it pours.  With the next month's rent due in just a couple days, the female renter up and left, leaving behind a cleaned out room and a goodbye note.  At the same time, BF chose to kick out the deadbeat, and we were left with the prospect of starting all over again with new renters.  Now, BF may look on this as an exceedingly dark time, but I happen to remember it as a very sweet time in our relationship and I look back on it fondly.  If I had to put a time stamp on it, I would say that this past summer is when I really moved in with him.  And, in my opinion at least, it was a great summer.  As a couple, we cleaned out the house, fixing what needed to be repaired in both rooms, and making them presentable for new renters.  I bought a new bathroom set and even put flowers in one of the rooms.  We put ads up all over the town and the internet, and we were certain that we would find some nice people who'd want to live with us.

Boy were we saps.

The first inquiries we got about the room were scams, which I recognized right away.  We got a people by to look at the room, but no one who definitively said yes, I will take it.  The first of the month loomed over us like a dark cloud each day that we didn't get a renter.  Luckily, in the summer, we were both working more, and so our meager paychecks could be stretched a bit further, but not by much.  BF was constantly overdrawn and frustrated, and every time I mentioned doing something that cost money, or if I went out and bought something, he'd go berserk.  Depression aside, I was very happy with our living arrangements this summer.  The house was ours, something that we hadn't had in our relationship, and something I think is very healthy for a couple.  We cooked together, cleaned together, and had sex in every room of the house--without interruption.  For me, it was bliss.

At some point over the summer, we got takers for the room--a couple of brothers from Oregon that each wanted a room at the price we were asking.  We were thrilled!  We killed two birds with one stone, so to speak.  BF talked to them, and they would be out at the end of the month.  We reasoned that we could handle a month.  What a relief to be able to tell those who asked that the room had been taken.  With their due date rapidly approaching, we nested--we cleaned the house and the refrigerator so they would have some room.  On the day that they had said they'd be here, we waited expectantly by the door, ready and willing to help them move in.

And we waited...

And we waited...

And then I went to bed and BF waited.

Now, if it had been me dealing with the renters, if someone told me they were coming out, I would have been in constant contact with them--emails, texts, something--to ensure they were still taking the room.  BF doesn't think like that.  He talked to them ten days prior and that was good enough for him.  He sent them a text that night and waited for the reply.  It didn't really come until the next morning, when he said that he'd been dropped from his classes and wouldn't be able to make it out.

We were crushed.  We were back to square one, and by this point, everyone who needed housing already had it.  Needless to say, we were desperate at this point.  BF called people who had asked about the room previously, and one person, who'd called just after the no-show brothers, said he'd take the room.  Then he called back and said that his father threatened to report his car stolen if he drove it out to California.  So he was out.

Two steps forward, one step back.

That's when, we had a pregnant unwed mother come up to our door, and fortunately for her, there was room at the inn.  She was very nice, and she and I got along pretty well.  She was due in a little over a month, and she needed a place she could have her baby's things.  Well, I'm good with kids, and the BF loves them.  Bam, she was in.  Just then, then Texan who'd called and said he couldn't make it, miraculously found a way to make it.  So BF welcomed him in eagerly.  And that's when all the trouble started...

New Beginnings

It's been over a year since I last blogged.  I miss it.  I've done some on Facebook, but it's just not the same.  So here I am.  I've learned from previous blogs, so bear with me.  The names will be changed to protect the guilty.  Anything you say can and just might be used against you in a blog of mine.

2010 has been an interesting year for me, a year of many new things and firsts.  In January of this year, I started a new job after being out of work for nearly 16 months.  This year was the first time I served on a jury.  It was the first time I got to work on a real TV show.  And of course, I've had my first "real" boyfriend, not just a guy I'm sleeping with.  That in and of itself has brought along many new firsts, particularly the first time I've lived with a guy.  Which brings us to the subject of the blog.  See how I did that.

If you ask me, I would say that my relationship with the BF has moved really fast.  He would say that when it feels right, it's not fast, but I don't know.  Without going into too much intimate detail, all the "relationship" milestones happened much quicker with us than I know happened with a lot of the other relationships I know of.  When it came to moving in together, we never really had the conversation; it just sort of happened.  Initially, I started staying at his place when I was working because he lived a whole 40 minutes closer.  I was only working weekends, so I was staying there two nights a week.  Then, when I started classes three days a week, I'd stay there just to save on the commute.  Eventually, I brought more and more of my stuff over, and before we knew it, I was just kind of moved in.

It's definitely been a learning experience, from having to share the covers to washing dishes.