Roommate Chronicles Part 2

When I first moved in with Paul about two and a half years ago, some ground rules were made. Little did I know that he would enforce a rule that applied only to me because he was “grandfathered in”. He was allowed to have women (keep in mind I use the term women loosely) overnight, but I, being the “little sister”, could not have a guy overnight. Now, I was 24 years old, living with my brother, in a house owned by my Memere who lives on the 1^st floor. Clearly, my love life was not in the best shape, so this rule of his seemed fine to me in the beginning, I did not foresee many men coming into my life anytime soon. However, I did not take into account the, *ahem*, women who were in his life.

As I have mentioned before, Paul is tall and good looking. He has a laid back personality and not much gets to him. He is also not emotionally invested in much of anything, especially when it comes to relationships. He has had a couple of serious relationships, but mostly when he was younger. Upon entering his thirties, serious relationships were no longer something he bothered himself with. Instead, as I found out, he rotated women. One Saturday night it would be Megan, then the next Saturday would be Ashley. So those are the players; Megan and Ashley. It was always interesting to wake up on Sunday morning and figure out who stayed over the night before based upon the pocketbook hanging on the chair and the state of the apartment.

The nice black leather bag with silver buttons, neatly placed meant it was Megan. Also, the blanket in the living room would be folded and any dishes she used would have been washed. Way to go Megan, she gets respect from me. She was tall with dark brown hair and beautiful brown eyes, kind eyes. A little bit on the heavier side, but very pretty. She always dressed nicely, and you could tell she put a lot of thought into how she looked, not in a narcissistic way, but in a classy way. Usually wearing dark jeans with black high heeled boots, a nice emerald green shirt, and a tasteful, blingy necklace or earrings to accentuate the outfit and bring it all together. I liked Megan. She would always say “Good morning” and “how are you?” before leaving. She would also stop in downstairs to say “Hi” to my Memere. She even stayed a whole morning to help her figure out something on a new cell phone she had. Megan was a good person. Megan was in love with Paul. Paul was not in love with Megan. Paul told Megan all the time he didn’t love her and that they were not in a relationship. I know this sounds harsh, but when you think about it, he was just being honest. He was not leading her on like some guys would do to get some booty. He let her know exactly how it is. He calls it “The Contract”. It’s about going out, drinking, coming back to his place, getting some and that’s it. There is no dating or romantic evenings. If she wanted to think it is more that is her own problem. Poor Megan. Apparently, she felt that by going out with another guy (a Schizophrenic firefighter), Paul would somehow get jealous. Not so. Megan got pregnant (not Paul’s!) and fell out of the rotation. Oh well, on to the next.

Soft brown leather bag, messy with crap hanging out of it: Ashley. Oh, Ashley, Ashley, Ashley. My goodness. Many years ago, Ashley was a cute blonde with short curly hair and freckles just around her eyes. She was in hairdressing school and actually dating and living with Paul. Like I said, many years ago. I was still in high school at the time, and remember she loved to practice her hair styling assignments on me. Hey, free hair styling, can’t pass that up. She was short and tiny all over, just a naturally tiny body type I suppose. But, needless to say, it did not work out between Paul and Ashley. Let us fast forward to the past two years. Ashely came back, or more like the creature who ate Ashley. I am not clear on exactly what happened, but somewhere along the years, she really went downhill. I didn’t even recognize her the first time I saw her again! She had crazy strawberry blonde hair that had no direction, it was just…everywhere, about 100lbs heavier and sloppy. Whenever I saw her, she was wearing an over-sized t-shirt with some random logo on it, with giant pajama pants. I guess it’s better than dressing too small for your sized, but still, have some respect for yourself. Anyway, waking up on Sunday morning, I would come out of my bedroom and see that sickeningly brown explosion of a bag, sprawled on the kitchen table. Here we go…do I dare walk into the living room? I take the 4 or 5 steps to the right and stand in the doorway. Food, paper plates, glasses (with melted ice, ON my laptop!!). Ok, Steph, just clear it out and make yourself some coffee. Once I cleaned up a bit and started the coffee, I would walk into the bathroom. Oh dear lord! What happened?! This was MY bathroom! But not if Ashley spent the night. Her make-up bag would be emptied on the sink counter, my saline solution for my contacts would be open and somehow would have developed a crust around the opening. It is saline solution, how does that even happen?! Then there was the underwear. Gross, filthy, faded pink underwear touching the bathroom floor which was most likely better sanitized than her garments. I couldn’t take it. Once she woke up, Paul had to drive her home because she didn’t have a car. She never said “Hi” or conversed in anyway. She was perfectly ok with Paul’s “Contract”. As he said, “She bangs other dudes too, so she knows how it is”. So sentimental. One of these other dudes, her boyfriend actually, shot and killed a guy. Awesome. I guess while he was doing time, Paul was her go-to screw. I was worried her boyfriend would find out and get word out to his homies and they’d come to pop caps in our asses while we slept. That along with the underwear and the mess was enough for me to ask him to not have her over anymore, but that wasn’t enough. Nope, something even worse had to happen.

Sound asleep in bed one night, I hear the apartment door open and Paul and Ashley come falling in drunk. I can hear fumbling, tumbling and laughter of two inebriates being their foolish selves. They stay up for a while, but I eventually slip back into a light sleep. Oh how I wish it was a deep sleep! I was awakened by sounds one should never hear, especially not a sister. Can you guess? Oh yes, you guessed it. Paul and Ashley going at it in his room, which is adjacent to mine. At first it is just the moaning, ugh, but then it escalated. It escalated so quickly, I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t even have time to react, protect myself before I heard it. I heard her yelling more than moaning, saying “harder” over and over and then the smacking. Oh my God, even the pillow and headphones wouldn’t have stopped it. I don’t mean like hand to skin smacking I mean the two bodies pounding together type smacking. How do you ever come back from that? You can’t really. Sex becomes tainted for you. When it was over, I was just in shock. The next morning after Paul took the slovenly chunk of slut home, I put my foot down. Words were said, and that was the end of Ashley and any girl ever staying the night again. It is a good thing Ashley was taken out of the rotation, because she also got pregnant, with the convict’s child. I feel bad for the kid, I really do.

Now what is Paul to do? Both of his sure things have babies. I’m sure he still goes out looking for a new rotation, but as long as they don’t come here, I don’t care. He has his real Babies here at home anyway. Yes, I am referring to his favorite cat. When sluts, sad girls in love and any other chick are no longer around, Paul still has Babies, his one true love. At least this love knows how to clean herself.