I have noticed in my time that people seem to identify with some of the stupid conversations I had with my ex-boyfriend. The one I used to live with (I feel I need to narrow this down). It seems that when you live with someone you have all sorts of silly conversations, and I swear, they started before we moved in. They say men are from Mars and women are from Venus, and me and this one totally were from different planets.
One night, after I had been at work all day and he had been a student all day (still not entirely sure on this one. He didn’t actually go to uni any more yet still claimed to be a student, so what he did is still a mystery) I came home. We shared a room at the time, it being just before we moved into our lovely cottage in the country with a rose bush and a garden (which in reality turned into a cold house in the middle of nowhere that was creepy and wild) and I was exhausted. Trying to let houses when people were doing their Christmas shopping was hard. I makeup removed, put my headband on, slathered myself with face mask, and hopped into my pjs. He played the Xbox (sense a theme?) and then I heard it. The dulcet tones of his Welsh friend. I froze.
“Where can I hear him from?” I asked.
“The Xbox!” he replied, as if I was insane and should know this already. I had tried to play the Xbox when we first got together in a nice girlfriendly fashion (not something I am familiar with) but I had got unceremoniously banned for making the players run round in circles and annoying everyone. My bad.
“Can he hear me?” I asked.
“Sure” was the reply I got.
I sat, pondering for a second and suddenly a thought crossed my mind.
“Can he SEE me?!” I asked.
Him “I really do not see what the fuss is about.”
Me “I have just got changed from my work dress to my pjs. And he has seen my boobs and knickers in their full glory. How can you not?”
Him, after turning the sound back up so his mate was once again in radio contact “dude, next time she gets changed, just close your eyes. It’s just not cricket.”
A few weeks later we went to look around a house. As a lettings agent I got the pick of seeing everything as they went on the market, and I found a perfect one. First floor, large flat. Big spaces, a small second bedroom for junk (the usual, ironing board, gym kit etc) and well in our price range so I could save up. Nope. He didn’t like it. Because the, and I quote ‘acoustics were all wrong”’for music production, and there wasn’t enough space. For the two of us. And we couldn’t get a pet. And it was in the city and he was a country bumpkin and he ‘couldn’t handle the noise’.
In a very un-me like fashion, I relented. We found a cottage in the country. There was no phone signal. There were no street lights. The bus went through sporadically when the bus driver could be bothered to get up. It cost a bomb. And the second large room for music production was used a grand total of five occasions. Twice when he went out and came home so late that he slept in the spare room as not to wake me, twice when my friend came to stay, and once for music production. In seven months.
The moral of this story is, that some men really are from a different planet!