Mating, Dating, Relating, Medicating

Nov 15
2011

Guest Post: Decision 2012: Roommate or Cat?

Today, I am going to the Musee d’Orsay in the afternoon, and then–AND THEN–I am eating dinner at Chez Robert et Louise, where they will cook my steak on an open fireplace while I drink wine and nibble on a crusty baguette. I also plan to shrug expressively, and–depending on weather–wear a beret.


The last time I visited Paris, I was 17 and traveling with today’s guest blogger and a dozen other hayseed high schoolers.  Jenny was my sister’s BFF in middle school, and we have recently re-connected over our shared desire to become famous writers with adoring audiences who hang on our every word. I think Jenny is actually going to do it though, so start reading her stuff now.



If you’re anything like me -but rest assured you’re not really, due to a particularly aggressive strain of terminal uniqueness- and you therefore found yourself miserable in Seattle for a long weekend because you had to fly 1,000 miles from the safety of Los Angeles to apologize to your family for being a gigantic ass hat for 20 years, getting a request from Hilarity to guest blog for her would make your day too. And so it was that the request arrived on my Blackberry, giving me something akin to a female chubby…

 

Mainly because I’d already started writing a blog challenge of sorts directed at her.

 

I don’t need to tell you that Hilarity has a remarkable aptitude for stating what we all know to be true, but wish weren’t. However, I’m just sycophantic enough to say it anyway.  You’re welcome, harlot.  But I’m tangential. In this particular instance, I’m referring to Hilarity’s oft-referenced imagery of single ladies with lots of cats.  A stereotype to be sure, but single women of a particular age do tend to wind up with cats.  You know it and I know it. However this mental image took on a whole new dimension of guttural truth after reading my all time favorite blog of hers, Dating Rules I Need to Remind Myself of Constantly, Part One.

 

Single and with an only occasionally hungry uterus at 33, I initially laughed aloud, pooh-poohing the possibility that I would ever wind up with cats.  I mean, I have plenty of time to meet someone, tolerate him for 6 or 7 months before deciding I hate him, but have-in the meantime-developed an alarmingly inappropriate crush on his  best friend, destroy their brotherhood, get HIM to fall crazily in love with me, and father my children before it’s too late.  Maybe.

 

But maybe I didn’t.  And cats were never going to be an option for me on account of my violent allergy to feces on display in my home.  So I needed to get creative.  If for no other reason than to ensure that the paramedics wouldn’t spitefully pose me in an unflattering angle because they’d torn a rotator cuff trying to pry the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from my rigor-mortised clutch.

 

And so it was in October of 2010, I sat on my couch and watched as my very own 23-year-old roommate moved right on into my second bedroom.Even if we didn’t get along, I figured she’d at least be able to update my Facebook status for me posthumously, and in the best case, I would talk to a live human being once or twice a week.  But I certainly didn’t count on her giving me an overwhelmingly pathetic  honest-to-God feeling of having a family.  Here’s how she does it.

 

1. She Routinely Asks Me When I’ll Be Home.
I don’t know if this is because she likes to pilfer through my top dresser drawer when I leave, (even though I have made it VERY clear that she is NOT to go in that drawer under any circumstances) but regardless, this makes me feel rather wifely.  Like she’ll be sitting around bored, or maybe hungry until I get home, which is I assume exactly how husbands feel when their wives go to the movies.

 

2. She Lets Me Know She’s In It For The Long Haul.  
A few months ago, this now 24 year old looked me straight in the face and queried:  “Jen, when we get a house, can I get a puppy?”  Obviously, this is indicative that our living arrangement is for life, as I will clearly never meet a man I will want to live with. Not only does the potential longevity of our cohabitation make me feel secure, but it also gives me hope of homeownership one day!

 

3. She Celebrates My Birthday Like It’s On Par With The End of Prohibition.
Unlike a certain cynical 34 and ½ year old, Mica thinks birthdays are joyous events that should be accompanied by balloons and streamers and confetti and tiaras and homemade delicious pink cake.  Granted all of this joy gets in the way of my annual attempt to flood my fallopian tubes with a handle of Belvedere, but it’s not as if I have more than 2 or 3 eggs left anyway.  And moreover she clearly doesn’t care if I get fat or else she wouldn’t make such a delicious fucking cake.  Beat that, “boyfriend.”

 

4. She Lets The Singular Maternal Chromosome or Gene or Whatever in Me Shine.
I’m not a particularly “nurturing” person.  But I get to be every now and again because of the roommate.  When she went out and crashed herself to bits on her moped (yup,24 year olds do ride them and look adorable on them) I got to play house and go buy her a cast and clean up her scrapes with Hydrogen Peroxide just like real mommies do.

 

5. She Gets Nervous I’m Going To Leave Her.
To Mica, every guy I go on a date with is my potential next ex-husband.   Just this morning, in fact, she requested that if I decide to move in with the guy I’ve been on ONE date with; if I could do her the favor of giving her plenty of time to make new living arrangements. This was immediately followed by her suggestion that we have a double wedding as well.  Call me crazy, but you are not going to find that astounding level of co-dependency from any fucking feline I’ve ever crossed paths with.

 

The Lesson:  Roommates>Cats.

3 Responses to “Guest Post: Decision 2012: Roommate or Cat?”

  1. DiaryofWhy says:

    Hooray, I love finding new blogs to read!

  2. magnolia says:

    bummer – i live in a house full of boys. i can assure you that boys do NOT do any of these things. they do make fun of everything you do mercilessly and are seemingly incapable of putting things in the dishwasher (they always end up on top of the dishwasher, which is insanely frustrating).

    you totally win.

  3. emmegebe says:

    Very, very funny. Will go read your other writing asap!

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