The Roommate

In the days following the accident I was spending a lot of time at home in the evenings with my new roommate, and I do not mean the fiance.

Thanks to the accident, I had to go straight home from work most evenings because I had to follow the schedule of my carpool. My boss was out of the country so that meant I could leave work at approximately 6p, but by depending on a ride, I could not join some friends for Happy Hour, I could not go to my kickboxing classes, I could not even go grocery shopping (the very act I once loathed but even came to desire during the trial period after the accident). Basically, I had no other option than to go to my new home. You think that would be exciting, right?

No! Considering the fiancee was very busy with work, getting home early did not mean I got to spend time with him. He had just begun working a lot of late nights, which would continue in the months to come. Who I did find at home, EVERY SINGLE night was, the roommate, the guy Brad had living there before I moved in. The one and only guy who I found, to my regret, to live with Brad to help pay his mortgage. The guy who turned out to be a crazy Christian.

At first, this kid rubbed me the wrong way, and then I thought after a few conversations, "Oh, he's not that bad." But when I came home every night to find him in the living room, planted in front of the TV in the smack middle of the couch with a plate of food on his lap, it began to seriously irk me. I thought, what 21 year old college kid in Los Angeles spends every single night at home? Wasn't he dating someone? Didn't he want to be with her, or upstairs in his room talking to her on the phone? Didn't he have homework to do upstairs at his desk? That was just the beginning.

And then came the idea of decorating my new home with this extra time in the evenings. I thought I might have the chance to make the place look and feel like a home, rather than a bachelor pad. But this roommate felt he had a right to give his input. Why, because he pays rent? Who gives a rip, Brad OWNS the freakin' place, and soon I will, too, when we're married. And yet, I had to hear it from this kid that if I put the bookcase "there" it was an "eyesore". Or, how about his, "Why don't you put up pictures instead of that thing?" What was even worse was when I put my Asian screen in front of the living room window, and then came home the next night to find that the roommate folded it up and put it in the corner of the room. Or, how about when I moved the furniture around a bit and came home later to find he had put it right back where it was before. I was going to ring this kid's neck.

It gets worse.

I wanted to keep our bedroom doors closed. One evening I found the door open. The roommate explained that he likes to have the doors open so he knows when we are and are not at home. If the door is closed, it means we are home and want our privacy. Are you freaking kidding me? He is telling Brad and I the rules of the house and what we should do with our bedroom door? Maybe you're asking now, what was Brad saying about all this? Was he speaking up? Was Brad laying down the law? No, no and no. Because he wasn't around to witness any of this and he thought I was just being whiny and emotional as a result of the accident.

Let's add everything up now. I was missing out on a social life. I was spending time with Brad's roommate rather than Brad himself. Brad thought I was being dramatic about the roommate. I could not decorate or rearrange my new place. And the roommate was telling me the rules of the house that HE made.

I haven't even touched on his being a crazy Christian. Hey, who am I to judge, right? But when I started hearing things like, "Obama is a Muslim and he is feeding our country to the wolves" and that Oprah Winfrey is of the devil, I thought, who the hell is living here??!!! Why do I have to put up with this, and Brad does not? And just because I am a Christian, doesn't mean I want to discuss books of the Bible and my favorite Christian song with you, weirdo. This kid hasn't even heard of the band MUSE. God, help me!

Lastly, privacy. The kid does not know what it means. One day I found he had come into our bedroom to put our clean sheets on the bed...in like, making the bed, not just laying them on top of the bed. You may think that was a nice gesture, but I think it's very creepy. Even creepier is one time he told me that Brad is so small and he can't even fit in his shirts. I asked, "Oh, was Brad going to lend you a shirt for something?" He says, "No, it was in the dryer so I thought I would try it on." WHAT!!!??? By the way, he was IN my room at this time because he just decided to walk in as I was folding clothes. THEN, yes, there was something else, he grabs my G-STRING underwear, pinched between two fingers, and asked, "How do you fit in these things?"

The stories are endless but you get the idea. It was time to start getting creative and examine further carpool opportunities, or other ways of transportation after work. It was not yet time however to start looking for a car. I was not ready to get behind the wheel. I was not that desperate...yet.