Cohabitation Situation

Yesterday, Goatee gave me the option of moving in with him. He proposed it as an ends to a means means to an end, not necessarily a cohabitation situation. However, how could it not be a cohabitation situation? We’re dating. We’d be living together…and working together. It felt all too serious too quick…until I got home and had to deal with the flatmates.

The flat last night was a nightmare. FringeSister has officially left her husband, and she doesn’t have a place to live. She doesn’t want to tell her parents, because they’re still paying off the debt incurred from the wedding. FringeSister’s husband doesn’t want a separation, so he’s around to the flat all the time begging, screaming and making a general nuisance of himself.

Marathon is recovering from a serious illness, and she doesn’t want to live at home with her parents, but Fringe has started putting pressure on Marathon to move back home so that FringeSister can have the room.

Last night, at about one in the morning, it all came to a head. FringeSister stormed out the house shouting, ‘I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll just sleep on the street.’

Fringe and Marathon chased after her. (I pretended to be asleep. I knew that the moment I got out my bed FringeSister would claim it for her own.) They got FringeSister back into the house, and Marathon agreed to give up her room. She said that she’ll move into the lounge, and make it a bedroom. We just won’t have a communal area. When I heard this through the walls, the decision was made. I’m moving out.

I got out of bed and told the three girls that their problem was solved. All I requested was that I get my deposit back and, as I’d already paid rent for December, I wanted to be reimbursed for the rest of the month. FringeSister started shuffling about; I could tell she was stalling, so I said, ‘Fine. Never mind.’ I turned to go back to my room, when Fringe spoke up for her twin: ‘She’s lost her job too. I can get your deposit back. I never gave it to the landlord. But I can’t give you your rent back, or else the landlord will know that we’ve been subletting. He thinks my sister’s been living here the whole time.’

I was furious. I could have been kicked out at any point, and I would have had no legal recourse. I’d already been scammed once on a flat; I can’t believe I’ve almost been screwed again. I told Fringe to give me my deposit back, and we’ll call it even for the rest of the month. At that point, I just wanted out the house.

I stormed into my room and slammed the door. Which was pretty pointless since there’s a big hole in it from where FringeSister’s husband kicked it in. I started throwing all my stuff in suitcases, and I rang Goatee.

It was really quite late by this point, but he was super nice about it. He told me to just go to bed, and that after work we’ll come around to the flat and clear my stuff out. I felt so relieved, and it felt good to know that I had somewhere to go. Somewhere that felt like home, to someone who cared for me.

I’m at work just now, and Goatee and I are going to leave a bit early so we can sort out my flat. The only thing I’m now worried about, in regards to living with Goatee, is my blogging. He doesn’t know about NotesFromTheIntern. I’m either going to have to find ways to blog in secret, or start blogging from work. Neither a very secure idea.


2 responses to “Cohabitation Situation

  1. You go, grrl! But there’s just one thing—this jumped out at me:
    “He proposed it as an ends to a means…”
    I think you mean a means to an end?
    Unless I’m missing what you mean?

  2. Whoops! I so need a copyeditor for my blog. Yeah, not much of an endorsement for a girl who wants to go in publishing, but in my defense, I’m much better at catching other people’s mistakes.

    Actually, what I should have said was, ‘Yes. Of course I meant to do that. It’s an “end” to my bad situation at the flat, leading to a “means” of getting out of it.’ But I’m a horrible liar, so I’ll just confess to my gaff.

    Thanks Cate. You’re brill. Keep reading and keep commenting.

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