Ug. So I went to take the trash out last night, and have half a cigarette out back. When I went to get back in my apartment, I noted the doorknob was missing from the door. It was lying on the ground. What the fuck? I went to pick it up, thinking maybe it had fallen off somehow. It was destroyed. Someone tried to break into our apartment complex (only 11 units large), I realized. Fuck. I hadn't used the back door in days - when had this happened?
I pick up the door knob and walk around front, the back door now impassable from the outside. I ask Ponge when he last used the back door. After much painful Q & A I established that the attempted break in had to have happened sometime between 5:30pm on Monday evening (last time P saw the door in a functioning state) and 7:45am Tuesday morning (when he noted it was fucked up). Apparently it didn't occur to him to say anything or tell anyone.
Anyway, so I call and leave a message for our landlord informing her of the event, leave a message for our maintenance person so he can fix the door, and after being redirected three times, contact the correct nonemergency people to make a police report. I am told to call fucking 911 and just state that it's a non-emergency. They damn well better have a lot of operators, because I always thought 911 was emergency calls only. The operator states that an officer will be by to make a report, and confirms my address. This is at 6pm, about. It is about 8am now, and no cop has shown up to make a report.
Not that it would do a lot of good, but what the fuck? If they state they'll be there, they should at least show up. I figured it would be an hour or two, not a day or two.
So I slept for shit last night, between squashing my imagination about someone trying to break through our actual apartment door & doing a variety of bad things to us, and stressing out about the bachelorette party and my living situation.
Then, this morning at about 6am P gets up to go piss and I go to stretch out my leg on his spot for a minute while he is up, but I hit something wet and quickly retract. What the FUCK is that??? I guess it must be cum, right, like a wet dream? P is 28 years old (almost), I thought wet dreams were just for teenage boys?
EEeeeew. So when he gets back to bed, does he clean it up, say, with some tissue? Nope. He just puts the sheets over it and sleeps between the sheets and the comforter. Fucking GROSS. We are never switching sides in the bed again! How many nights have I slept on his old wet dream cum and not known? Who the hell does that? Wouldn't you want to clean up after yourself? A dog would at least lick it up.
Now, I know you're thinking, hey, you have had his cum on you before and slept in your sex juices and such. Well, when I was a baby I shit in my pants, but that doesn't mean I want to keep doing that. If I'm not involved in the cum, I don't want to touch it, see it, or smell it.
At the time, I thought, that's IT. I'm DONE living with another person, and I never want to share my bed on a permanent basis again. I want to forever and ever have my own room, even if I wander into the land of monogamy at some point again. I convinced myself that I could come up with the extra money, no problem, just work a couple doubles a month, yar yar blah.
And maybe I can. Imagine, this place all mine. No worries about waking anyone up or cleaning anyone elses messes or anything. I could stay up until 4 am in my room and do art or whatever I wanted and it would only disturb me! I could bring fuck buddies over whenever I wanted!
Ah, shit, I need to get to work. More later...like who keeps what? Can I really do this? Is it worth it? Decisions, decisions. I know what I *want*, I just don't know if it's possible.