Let Me Esssplain....

My post yesterday caused some hurt feelings. What was meant to be a tongue-in-cheek funny post turned out to be more like me sticking my foot in my mouth. My current housemate, who never, ever reads my blog, chose yesterday to read it. Great. Fabulous. I feel like an asshole.

Many of you might have thought that I was talking about a specific housemate, or even, my current housemate. I wasn't. Honest! Sure, they are true but they are universally true. Only one or two of those things pertained to him specifically. The substituting Windex for Swiffer cleaner was him. And I included it cuz it was funny and such a Mikey thing to do. He's an improviser. I like this about him and as a bonus, his improvisation often has comedic effects.

Half that stuff I listed was hyperbole or attributed to other, previous housemate situations. I've lived in some bad housing situations. Like when I lived at the "sorority house" that wasn't really a sorority house but where I was the only person not actually in the sorority and about the only one who actually studied. Or for that matter, slept. I used to lock my room from the inside and climb out the window when I would go away for the weekend. They would have crazy ass parties and after finding my bedsheets dissheveled after a party that I wasn't present at, I implemented the "lock and leap". There'd be drunken, rowdy conversations in front of my door at 3am. There seemed to be a lot of loafing, a lot of watching of 90210 and Days of Our Lives and the eating of Nutella and croissants in that house that year. I was the odd man out. I hated it.

Or the house where my long-time friend became my housemate and then my ex-friend and ex-housemate. She seemed so normal before she was my housemate. . .and then she turned crazy. She'd use my make up/toothpaste/soap, eat my food, borrow cds, etc. but she would claim not to have used/eaten/seen/touched any of it. She'd LIE. Lie like a rug. She didn't even have the smarts to put the shit back where she took it from or hide it in her room. No. She'd put "borrowed" items on different shelves, leave half-eaten containers on her shelf in the fridge, play my cds at top volume in her room but claim she had run out and bought it, she liked mine so much. Yeah, right. I started writing my name on everything I owned with a Sharpie marker. It was like psychotic summer camp. But you could never leave...

Out of all these living situations, living in my current situation is a breeze. It's downright blissful.

For the record, I am no peach. That's why I lived alone for 5 years. I think I'm a pretty difficult person to live with- I'm moody, easily put out, very private, a light sleeper that snores, and I don't always do my dishes right away. I think I prefer to live alone because I don't like anyone to see my idiosyncrasies, quirks or lameness on a day to day basis, so up close and personal. I tend to feel guilty for laying around the house on the weekend and easily compare myself with others as in I "should" be doing x, y or z. I've got issues. This isn't news. Me living alone is really better for the sake of all other people- it protects them from me rather than the other way around.

This is reason #78 on a very long list as to why I am single and why I will likely remain so for a very, very, very long time.

And all of this is to say: Hey Mikey? I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. You're a great housemate. Really! Thanks for putting up with me. I love you.