So I mentioned to a friend that I was looking for a new roommate. He told me that he had an extra room and could use the cash. We discussed it for a while over a growing pile of empty beer cans and decided that we could make a good match.
On the surface it seems like there is no problem. You’re probably thinking, “But Ben, it’s a win-win scenario.” Well, you’re right, except for the whole hacked to pieces during a dream about sharing a hot tub with Beyoncé, Jessica Alba, the ginger from the Wendy’s commercial, and bigfoot. (don’t judge me. I say nothing about your inflatable chicken.)
Well it turns out that my new roomie is quirky. Not Rainman quirky, but full on homeless guy on a subway quirky. He can’t tolerate being touched. His favorite humor is a toss-up between casual anti-Semitism and dry puns. He’s really thin, likes his house neat, wears a tie to work every day. is an Apple fanboy, and runs for fun. He’s quirky. I don’t say he’s crazy. His mother had him tested.
I on the other hand am a joy. I like the house however I find it. I have a very sharp wit. I’m warm and fuzzy and slightly snuggly. I’m as likeable as Wayne Brady, and you’d damned well better not forget it.
But, what if he finds some of my charismatic and loveable traits awkward? What if he doesn’t like me coming into the bathroom with him to sing back-up while he showers? What if he isn’t cool with me pooping in the garbage disposal? doesn’t he know what kind of breeze that makes for my starfish while i’m doin’ my bidness? And, what if he expects me to wear clothes around the house? I only own my work clothes. I’m even naked writing this. Will he be weirded out by me sitting on the coffee table in the morning eating a bowl of grits refried beans wearing only sandals and a cowboy hat?
I gotta think things through better before I make these big decisions.