So I moved in with my girlfriend. Telling people this has elicited a variety of responses from “Congrats” to “Good Luck, You’re Going to Need it”. From “We’re SO Happy for You!” to my favorite, just laughing out loud. No words needed. One friend sent me a legitimate list of things I should watch out for on the Friday before I moved in. And another on the Monday after. I know people are not personally concerned about my relationship, but there are a lot of smart, caring people who have taken this plunge before and they are ready to share their experiences. Or laugh at mine. But…my turn is going to be different. I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry. I’m going to get ahead of these questions and problems before they arise. I present to you my personal Moving In Manifesto:
These are the things you may not know about me but will soon find out: I text a lot. No I am not having an affair. And no I’m not a teenage girl. I have at least 2 group text threads going at all times. These are with other men, all above a legal age. Most of these texts are about baseball. The rest are a mixture of dick jokes, old movie quotes, and either have you seen how fat/ugly someone got notes, or “do you remember the time” questions/declarations of how sad we are and miss the past. I don’t know if this is normal. (it might be?) I don’t know if it’s healthy (it’s not). But I’m not stopping. So just remember when my phone starts buzzing at 2am it’s not because someone is looking for a booty call. Ortiz probably just hit a homerun. Or someone is drunk and can’t remember that restaurant that used to be on Park Ave. (Cactus Pete’s)
I spend a lot of time in the bathroom. And no I’m not masturbating. Most of the time. I also spend a lot of time in the shower. Same qualifier applies. For the first ten minutes of my shower I’m literally just standing there. Sure, I’m thinking too….what do I have to do today…how did last night end…did I take off my clothes before getting in here? Okay, good. I do not know how to properly use a luffa and yes I had to look up the spelling of that word. Just be glad I apply the soap to my body somehow and don’t ask anymore questions. For your information, every time I shave I DO clean up after myself, but somehow the hair will still get all over the sink. I’m not lazy, just incompetent. Just be grateful I’m not still aimlessly standing in the shower just letting the water repeatedly hit me in the face. Yes, I’m surprised I still have a job too.
It’s not just the bathroom sink. I don’t know how to clean anything properly. I’m going to blame my parents for this. First of all, their genetics have rendered me borderline useless. Secondly, every time that I tried to clean something as a child it was taken away and I was told I don’t what I’m doing. You can’t buy on-the-job training like that. So please be aware that our dishes might end up dirty. Or wet. Or I might bring you a cup of milk with a mysterious suction cup at the bottom of it on our 5th morning at the new apartment. Hypothetically speaking of course. I wouldn’t expect our laundry to make it through this experience much better. In fact, one of the reasons I have the same amount of clothes as you is so that I can put off actually doing the laundry for as long as possible. By the way, if you haven’t noticed the large amount of clothes that I have, you will be finding it inunusual places shortly. Especially socks. I don’t even know where some of them have been, so you should probably throw them away immediately.
I don’t know how to cook. Well, properly. I like my food burnt, and I’m not sure this is as much of a preference as it is an adaptive behavior and a lack of sufficient funds to replace the scorched food. This may mean I have cancer, but that is for another day. Actually, a lot of things are for another day. It’s very common for me to get distracted by TV, Xbox, Food, Totally Not Weird Group Texting , etc, so there will be unfinished projects, or failed half baked ideas around the apartment in various states of completion. This could be anything from 200 CDs spread across a table or a table stacked on a table, stacked on another table in the living room. If you go too long without asking me what the purpose of my actions were I will most definitely forget. I was probably drunk when the inspiration hit me.
Speaking of which. I drink a lot. Good news: This has already been included the food budget. Bad news: I’ve eliminated produce, meat, and deserts. At least we won’t have deal with finding a grocery store other than Market Basket. See, you HAVE chosen a partner wisely. If we do find a way to scrape together some cash for groceries and you don’t come to the store with me, I am going to forget something, and when you ask me about it, I am going to lie right to your face. “You’re seriously telling me that there was no milk at Shaw’s?” Yeah, I KNOW, craziest thing right? Don’t even bother fighting it on me, just assume I’m an idiot and move on. Send me right back out with a list that only has “milk” written on it and I will return with some. But be prepared that before I leave I will say something to play off the obvious lie I’ve told like “Well I sure hope the market down the street isn’t out of milk too!” And I’ll probably come back with the wrong type of milk because I can’t tell the different between 2% and skim milk, and frankly I don’t give a shit. I mix all my milk with chocolate syrup anyway, because I’m a 6 year old. Surprise!
I have no idea how to properly make a bed and I have no interest in doing so. If you put a pillow on the ground and called it a bed that’s where I’m sleeping. Which is good I think, since you love dogs, and at the very least you don’t need to help me go to the bathroom. Also I can mostly feed and bathe myself. Or some reasonable facsimile. Stupid Luffa. If you still think living together will be a good idea, be forewarned that I’ve never fixed one thing around the house on my own. My physical intuition is non-existent, my common sense is lacking, and as mentioned previously my parents gave up on me a long time ago. They did make sure I could read. Which is why if you check my browser history you will see an ungodly amounts of E-How visits. Speaking of ungodly amounta of site visits, why don’t you just avoid checking my browser history altogether. Yes I’m gross, and weird, , and no I can’t tell you why that of all things does it for me. Seriously, it beats me, I can’t even blame my parents for that one.
Well that just about does it. Oh yeah, just a few more things: I’m addicted to twitter, and you have no idea how obsessive I am checking sports scores: you think you know, but you have no idea. I keep the TV on all the time for company like a dog or and old lady might, I don’t know how to use an iron or a salad spinner, and I indiscriminately throw things away because I don’t now what anything is for and I’m too lazy to find out. I will track dirt into the house and I will feebly attack it with the swiffer, then repeat the whole process no more than 10 minutes later. If you want to watch a movie in bed, I will fall asleep, so just remember that when that guy who looks like our neighbor is slaughtering that young girl that looks like you, I will be snoring for the next 6-8 hours while you freak out. If the cable or internet goes out I will have a temper tantrum, there are probably holes or stains under anything I hung up so please don’t go spending that security deposit yet, and if I don’t get a few hours to myself each week my mental state will deteriorate quicker than the neighbors’ that will soon be murdering you. Wow, I feel a lot better now. I can’t see anyway that this isn’t going to work out.