CHAPTER 1
WAYLON
I’m not sayingI hate love. In fact, I fuckinglovelove. And one day I hope to be neck-deep in it. I hope to absolutely reek of it. I’m one hundred percent, without a doubt, going to be obsessed with my wife. Whoever she is. How do I know that? Because I don’t want a wife I’m not obsessed with. I just don’t know who she is yet. And I don’t want her right now… or anytime soon. In maybe five years or so, though? You betcha.
But love is also the reason I’ve had three roommates in the past eighteen months. Because the exact same thing happens every time. They move in, we get comfortable, they fall in love with someone, and they move out to live with them. I find I’m very frustrated at having to break in a new roommate every six months. Do you know how hard it is to trust a stranger all up in my space? And with my dog? I do not take that shit lightly.
So while I don’t hate love, like I said, I do find that it’s inconveniencing my life an awful lot for someone who isn’t even fucking experiencing it.
Which is why I’ve decided that part of my screening process this time around will involve the following questions:Are you currently dating someone? Are you presently on the prowl for love? Can you confirm that you don’t intend to fall in love for at least twelve months?
I reckon these questions might come off a little personal. But roommates do get personal. I’ll likely know each time this person takes a shit, and you’re telling me I can’t ask them about their love life? Give me a break.
The truth is, Kent moved out two days ago to live with his girlfriend, whom I never even met. Which is weird, right? Whatever. So, I’d really like to find someone within the next week or two. I’m not poor or anything. I could survive without a roommate, I suppose. But I don’t want to. I like spending money on other things. Like new boots. And people underestimate what a good pair of boots can cost.
It shouldn’t be too hard to find a roomie. It hasn’t been in the past. The problem is keeping them. Perhaps I won’t go through my usual channels this time. Normally, I’d post an ad in this group I’m in online. It’s a big local page of people looking for roommates or selling their shit or offering their lawncare services. Usually that just means a kid with a push mower, but I respect the hustle.
Maybe I need to look in my immediate circle first, though. Maybe someone knows someone—that kind of thing. At least then we’d have a link of commonality. Plus, the person who knows them can tell me about them ahead of time. Yes, I like this plan.
I pull up my group chat with Ridge, Banks, Killian, and Avery. We’ve gone around and around about the name of the group, changing it all the time. It started as SHOP CREW and then devolved into anarchy. It’s currently called SPANK ME, DADDY, but I couldn’t fucking tell you why.
ME
Does anyone know someone looking for a roommate?
RIDGE
Replacing Kent already?
ME
He left two days ago.
BANKS
Do you even know his girlfriend’s name?
ME
No. Isn’t that weird?
BANKS
More than a little.
KILLIAN
I can’t think of anyone, but I’ll ask around.
ME
Ok, but none of your friends from that chess club you’re in.
RIDGE
I’m sorry, who’s in a chess club?
KILLIAN
