Mary:*smacks forehead* Your delivery is so terrible.
V:Roses are red, violets are blue, I suck at being a boyfriend, but you just want to show off, too. They’re meant for each other.
Mary:*mutters* Annnnnnnd there it is.
V:Look, Hopeless, just check your motivation, okay? If you honestly only want him to send you something because it’ll make you feel good, give you a smile, and cheer your day up? Then I’d sit him down, talk to him one more time, and if you believe he’s not budging or hearing you? Then probably he’s doing the same thing in other parts of your relationship. Maybe that’s more what the feeling of dread’s about. Maybe it’s not the Valentine’s Day shit, it’s all the other times he’s not taking you into account. Like vacations, money decisions, where to live, what to do. Does he compromise when you two disagree? Do you feel like there’s a lot of instances like that, where you go to him and make a request that’s not a screamer, but ultimately reasonable, and he just fucks you off? If that’s the case, you gotta get out, true. The relationship’s no good. On the other hand, if you’re really just getting jealous over what your coworkers are receiving? And the rest of the relationship is going okay? Then you gotta drop this shit. There’s no reason to beat the guy over the head because you want to compete with the other people at work. The answer to your question lies inside of yourself— *double-takes at Mary* What?
Mary:OMG, yes, V. That’s what I think, too.
V:*holds out knuckles* Pound me.
Mary:*knuckle taps*and *breathes a sigh of relief* I’m going to end this here because, hey, it’s a great place. I agree with exactly what V said, andIwishyouluckletusknowwhathappenspeaceout—
V:Man, you’re talking fast.
Mary:Ending on a good note! Fade to black! Out, out, out!
Unwanted Roommate
Dear Vishous,
I feel like you might have gotten a letter like this some time ago. I dunno. But I’m hoping that you’ll choose mine to address anyway, because I’m at the end of my rope. I’m a guy, twenty-nine years old, and I live in a medium-sized city. I’m not dating anyone seriously, and I basically like my job. Neither of these is the problem.
Three of my buddies and I moved into this apartment four years ago. It’s a four-bedroom, and two of the originals left after they got with their (future) wives. Because my remaining roommate and I were making okay money, we decided to convert one of the bedrooms into an office for him (he telecommutes) and leave the other one open.
It was a great arrangement. Until his little brother graduated from college and needed a place to crash. I was fine letting the brother in here in the beginning—because it was supposed to only be for a month or so until he found his own place. That was almost a year ago.
The little brother is a pain in the ass. For one, he doesn’t have a job. He livestreams on Twitch, makes YouTube reaction videos, and plays video games for days (and nights) at a time. (As a side note, I should have seen trouble coming when he showed up on our front door with an office chair that looked like the driver’s seat of a Formula 1 car, and a computer screen the size of a bay window. But I digress.)
Aside from the noise of the games, the shouting, and the relentless narcissism involved with filming himself constantly, he is a slob. He has never cleaned a dish or a bowl in his life—nor can he seem to understand how to put them in our dishwasher. He never does his laundry, which grosses me the hell out. And all he wants to talk about is his gaming and how he’s an influencer. If there is one good piece of news, he does not use the refrigerator or the stove. Of course, the bad news is that he lives off of delivery services and there is trash from takeout all over his room.
He needs to go. And yes, I’ve expressed my frustration to my roommate. His response is that his brother “can’t really function” in the real world and wouldn’t do well independently. The kid’s parents have started to pay his share of rent and utilities, but this makes the situation worse for me because, in my view, it signifies that this supposedly temporary solution to the housing situation of an otherwise fully functioning adult is now permanent. Look, the kid is smart enough to make a living with his Patreon account and his livestreams. He graduated from college. He’s good at gaming. Yet his brother and his parents are treating him like he’s fifteen and fragile. It’s ridiculous, and I know that my roommate handles the inconveniences because it’s his fricking brother—whereas to me, the kid is taking advantage of things in a huge way.
What the hell do I do? I like where I live. I can bike to work in the good weather, and I have a parking space in the back (which, thankfully, the brother doesn’t use because he doesn’t even have a damn driver’s license). The price is right, and the building’s quiet. More than all that, though, and I hate to sound like a dick, but I was here first. This is my gig. I don’t want to be forced out by this kid and my roommate who’s being manipulated like he is.
That’s all I got. What do I do? I hate coming home. I’ve lost respect for my roommate, and I can’t stand this kid.
Thanks,
Bob (not my real name, but whatever, I can’t think up a tagline name)
Mary:Bob, thank you for writing, and let me say that challenges with roommates are not uncommon—
Vishous:My guy, oh, my God, this is fucking awful. This is just the worst. I am so fucking sorry—what?
Mary:*blinks* I just…I haven’t seen you so compassionate. Maybe ever.
V:Well, how can you not feel for Bob? To work hard during the day and come home to someone who is disrespectful of the physical space you share, taking advantage of the hospitality, and totally annoying to be around? I mean, your home is your sanctuary. You go there to recharge. And Bob’s stuck with this kid. Seriously. My heart goes out to him.
Mary:Well, this is a nice surprise. I’m glad you’re being so empathetic. It’s a refreshing change. Now, Bob, I think that you—
V:Can you imagine? My guy has to wake up knowing the kid’s right next door. And he has to go to sleep with the dumbass down the hall. Everywhere he goes when he’s at home, the scourge is there. Breathing. Eating. Existing. It’s enough to drive a person insane—
Mary:Yes, I think that part of the issue is pretty clear. And I’m glad you’re sympathizing with Bob. But let’s now look at possible solutions—
V:*lights up* Always there. The kid is always there. Twenty-four hours a day. So that even if you’re outside in the field, doing your job, you know—you know—that you’re coming back and getting trapped indoors with him. There’s no escape. Wherever you are, he’s looming—
Mary:*narrows her eyes* We’re not on Bob’s letter anymore, are we?
