Naked in the City (explanation)

This is a fiction piece I wrote, in the form of a blog, in character.  It’s based on a real girl, who was considering a male roommate, and discussed all her rules with me in a refreshingly frank manner.  That part is all, nearly, real.  It then follows her into the actual implementation of these rules.  I’m going to try to post it in real time.

Thank you

I’m sorry for all spelling mistakes

Naked in the City (a fake blog in progress) part 2

The rules of living with a girl (a super hot, ultra cool one) in the city

 

    Four of my friends, Diane, Rachel, Linda, Marty, and I sat down and they helped me come up with this list of rules.  The first set was the biggest group effort, as everyone had to share a bathroom at some point with either a boyfriend, brother, father, or someone else.

Bathroom rules:

1.  Just clean up after yourself and we’ll be fine

2.  I will not monopolize the surface area with my products, and you’ll keep yours neat and in their own area

3.  Let’s spend the extra two bucks every month and get the good toilet paper

4.  Toilet seat left down, mister, I’m a lady

5.  The lock is broken, so please just close the door shut, I don’t want to walk in on you.  And I’m afraid I have to make clear that you are not allowed to come in when I am in there, even if I’m in the shower with the curtain closed, and you just need something really quickly

6.  I don’t mind you using some of my products, shampoos and soaps.  I just don’t want to end up spending twice as much money on my stuff because of freeloading

Diane made me be very lenient with this next one.  She wanted me to accept that if I lived with a guy (especially if we’re not screwing) he’s going to be checking me out.  I.E., the less real sexual stimulation I give to him, the more likely he is to try to get peeks.  If I’m being modest, I would still describe my body as at least average, which means that it’s good enough to attract most men, if not get them drooling.  Even if I’m careful with what I wear, I’m going to be showing something that catches his eye.  So, I have to not be annoyed by it, and just realize that it’s not about sex, it’s just a guy being a guy.  Also, if I put a limit on it early, I’ll be able to prance around like I normally do without it getting weird.  My most important priority is that I want to feel comfortable in my own home.

Clothing:

    I can be fairly casual with my clothing at home, I’m used to lounging in a comfy T-shirt and panties, and I’m not going to chastise you for looking, as long as it is not creepy.  If I have cleavage on display, or legs for days, I give you permission to look.  But even if I come out naked, it’s not an indication that I want sex.  I do not want to see you naked, or to see your bits hanging out

This bit was quite easy, but I felt it had to be said.

Kitchen:

    Again, just clean up after yourself.  Leftovers are not automatically communal.  Same rules on milk, eggs, and other basics apply as on toiletries

This was the most difficult section, where my friends with their live-in boyfriends and husbands could help me least.  I don’t generally bring guys back to my home instead of going to their place, usually for the same reasons I wasn’t sure I wanted to have a male roommate, but it does happen occasionally.  Actually, this area might be better with a guy, Tara had a tendency to bring home sketchy guys, and I won’t have to worry about waking up to random naked men at the breakfast table.

Bringing home dates:

        The main thing is to not interfere with the other’s sex life, I.E. don’t give the other person’s date a reason to be jealous.  The rest is basic courtesy, not being there when the other is having a date over for dinner, not having crazy loud sex, and keeping it in the bedroom.  Also, this apartment is for two, not three; we can’t have a third person constantly sleeping over, moving in toiletries and other things.

    I had been planning on including this as part of my general bathroom rules.  Rachel, who has been married since she was 18 to the man she dated since she was 14, recommended that masturbation should have its own separate category of rules.

Rules on masturbation:

1.  I will be very understanding, I know that men need to do this on a regular basis, and I know that I am at a bit of an advantage when the need occurs, as far as disgusting evidence goes, so I will also follow these rules

2.  Keep it in your room.  Of course, not in the living room, and no masturbating in the bathroom, this includes the shower.  That is where I go to clean myself, if I see sperm on the wall, I will think about it every time I go in there

3.  Seriously, not in the shower, I know you think that it’ll all be cleared away by the soap and water, but when you miss a single gross glob, you’re out

4.  There are basically two different types of masturbation accessories.  I never, ever want to see your deposit receptacles, E.G., crusty socks or tissues

5.  The other type is good old-fashioned pornography.  To be honest, I’m really okay with most pornography, as long as it’s relatively mainstream.  I get some kind of weird ex-anthropology student’s pique in interest out of watching those Girls Gone Wild tapes, and I won’t be a prude when it comes to the hardcore stuff.  Please just don’t leave things lying around.  All I need is a little discretion

The worst movie I saw today

So, I um, watched Epic Movie.  On purpose.  I didn’t pay for it or anything, except with my precious time.  The reviews really don’t do it justice, I’m not sure any can.  You really just have to see it.  It’s just too difficult to imagine ridiculous comedy spoof that actually doesn’t have a jokes.  There was a movie, long, long ago, with Gary Coleman, called The Fantastic World of D.C. Collins where he’s a kid with an over active imagination.   It was really just an excuse to see Whatcha Talkin’ ’bout Willis dressed as Indiana Jones and other popular characters, but only a few minutes, the rest of the movie was all about cold war espionage.  Epic Movie takes those few, sufferable minutes and makes a film out of them, a whole film.  The only reason you would laugh is if you’re one of those people who laugh whenever your brain works properly, and you’re just glad you understand the reference.  Plenty has already been written on the badness of these movies, and their lack of jokes, but there’s still a few things I just have to say:

Bringing a Borat lookalike on for a few seconds, to just talk like him is not parody, it’s just a rip off; using a joke from another comedy without any attempt at differentation is simply stealing

Lazy Sunday was a funny sketch of a bad rap, Lazy Pirates is actually worse than Lazy Scranton, which was supposed to be a bad rip off

This makes Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Fatal Attraction, and even Mafia! look really good, and Family Guy really bad, whenever they make a reference to pop culture that is only a reference

Watch this movie!  I did, so you should suffer too

Poetry Challenge

Not a big fan of poetry?  That’s okay, I completely understand that.  I don’t need you to like it right now, I just need a topic, any topic will do.  If you want, you can also give me a style (please, no iambic pentameter, I just can’t).  This is a challenge for me, to write the poems as fast as possible, and a challenge for you, to give me a topic that stumps me.

Here’s a simple one i wrote in an IM, with the topic given as “ocean waves”

it’s so calming

elevating and decending, in perfect harmony,

always there 

beckoning and singing to me, endlessly,

on the beach

i feel the power and the care, of life in movement

Writers of the unlabeled generation

I’m not much of a reader.  I like to write.  I like to tell stories, but the ability to read entire books has always eluded me.  Sure, read the last two Harry Potter books, and listened to the others on tape, but that’s about it.  So, I’m going to keep a blog about writing, and story telling.  I can’t expect you to read it because I probably wouldn’t; this isn’t false modesty or anything, I really wouldn’t.  I do admire the people who do read more than articles or cracked.com, but I don’t envy them.

How to be Naked in the City Without Being Noticed (a fake blog in progress)

An introduction to my delusions of actual problems

 

    The dilemmas of a single woman in the city, and such.  The major dilemma I am dealing with here is the one which involves finding a new roommate, and the fact that my most potential option is a man.  First though, before writing about that, I must decide whether or not I actually want to write about that, at all.  Do I really want to write a blog?

    Well?  No, I don’t.  I don’t want to contribute another brick in the wall of self important trite that permeates the internet worst than porn.  The world does not need another blog of someone whining about their need to be loved or how mean the world is to them.  By the way, it’s not real, everything gets filtered through the writer anyway.

    So, that was my little rant against the raging wind.  Life sucks pretty often, and I tend to rant when it’ll do the least good.  Getting back to my grand life experiences, I promise this won’t be about my day to day life, I already have a diary, just about this one problem that many people go through.  It’ll be nice to know, if this all falls apart, exactly how that happened; you don’t usually get to know the very moment you made a huge mistake, and maybe it’ll make a good story:

    I needed a new roommate.  Two bedrooms, one full bath, and a cute little kitchen that I can truthfully call “cozy.”  It’s a nice little place that I enjoyed living in but couldn’t afford to live in on my own.

    The guy’s name is Doug.  He dated a friend of mine in college, and he reentered my life just as I was looking for a roommate and I was not looking for a boyfriend.  We chatted over coffee until we found out that we both had a problem and a solution.  He needs to find a place to move into in the next week.  He’s a guy though, and I’m not so sure if I can live like that.  I only have a couple of days before he needs to know what he’s doing and I’ll have to pay rent, so I’m feeling quite hurried to make up my mind.

    I suppose I’m going to end up letting him move in, but I do have concerns.  My last roommate, Tara, was not perfect.  Thinking back to her, I might actually prefer living with a man.  Let’s just say, I appreciate other people’s privacy even more than my own, and I don’t want to see used hygiene products or traces of blood in the bathroom.  But, do I really want to trade that in for the pubic hair and chronic masturbation that a man brings with him?

    He’s a nice guy; if I tell him that I don’t want sex or romance, he won’t try anything.  On the other hand, I’m not above getting horny, and I’m going to need to make a good show of willpower by not taking advantage of a willing dick right down the hall.  It’s not that I would never have a fun little interlude with a friend; I just don’t think it would work with a roommate.  You can’t live with a guy every day, and allow him the goodies only on certain occasions like you can with a fuck buddy across town.  A guy would want sex constantly, especially with no strings attached, when it’s available down the hall, while I would only crave it when the mood arises, and I don’t want to have to constantly be turning him down.  It’s not like I didn’t live in a coed dorm in college, with all the fun that came with it, but this is real life now, and I can’t just have a good time and move on without consequences any more.

    If we hook up seriously, it’ll end, possibly shortly, and then I’ll be back to needing another roommate.  Also, there would most likely be additional problems with real dates, if they find out about any privileges.

    One positive possibility: an increase in privacy.  I’m no wallflower, or shrouded prude, hell, I can be down right raunchy, but I do like my privacy.  Girls expect girls to be open and honest 24/7.  With a guy, I can just plead “chick problems” or close my door to inquiries whenever his concerns infringe upon me.  Hopefully, he’ll turn out to be very macho, keep his problems bottled up, and never want to talk to me about anything personal.

Pros:

I’ll feel safer with a guy here

Opening bottles

Killing things

Fixing stuff (he worked as a mechanic in college)

Increased privacy

Shoulder rubs

His work takes him away for long periods, quite often

I don’t have to be friends with his guy friends

Cons:

Unashamed smelliness

Naked men are disgusting

We’ll end up screwing, then breakup, and he’ll leave

I don’t want to find evidence of constant male masturbation

His guy friends will be over often, and annoying

    So, I think I can deal with all the cons.  I’m going to tell him he can start moving into the apartment.  Now, I’m going to have to work on the rules.