Playing House (for now)

I recently acquired a housemate. I suppose there’s nothing really extraordinary about that fact, except that my housemate broke my heart on our first day of living together. I suppose most girls would not have put up with such abuse and would have kicked his sorry arse out but after 1.5 years of putting up with his crap, it’s just another item on a long list of things that I do because I love him. Yes, for those of you who actually follow the “Spanish Novella” masquerading as this blog (Kudos, by the way, to my dear loyal readers), my potential Prince Charming/Current Mr Froggie (aka the male protagonist of the VerbalValium saga) has taken up temporary residence at my abode.

Ordinarily, I would be popping the champers and dancing around in glee to be shacking up with my PPC even if it’s only for a couple of weeks; (Hey, you take what you can get!) Being the first face he sees when he wakes up in the morning and the last one he sees before he goes to bed is not a bad deal! Alas, woe is me… there were several adjustments that I had to make, that frankly, I was not very keen on accommodating. For one, as much as I loved having him stay over, I could not help but feel that there was something not quite right with the set-up despite the fact that our 1.5 year history has made him no stranger to my apartment. What was that niggling feeling? Ah…yes, he was sleeping in the wrong room.

I’m not going to be prissy or get on a high moral horse. To steal a quote from the movie Eating Out (which features the absolutely yummy Ryan Carnes!): “We are all organic creatures and have organic needs”. After two months of being away, I won’t deny feeling highly “organic”; I missed him. Pure and simple. Unfortunately, organic good aren’t always available and hence, needs have to go unfulfilled.

Through some semblance of an unspoken mutual agreement, we had both taken our time apart to re-evaluate our situation (at least, I was definitely re-assessing our situation; I cannot vouch for him as he may have had other more pressing things and distractions on his mind). In my case, I was definitely hoping that by walking away, “[my] absence would make [his] heart grow fonder”. Alas, I think he was more of the school of thought that “out of [his] sight, [was to be] out of [his] mind”. A whole month had gone by before he contacted me while I was away, and at that point, I had honestly given up all hope and expected the worst: that I meant nothing to him at all and I was not missed. I was absolutely gutted.

Just when the storm clouds were blowing in and I was all set for a monsoon (of hard alcohol to drown the pain), he calls and suddenly my grey skies part to reveal the rainbow. Yes, my rainbow though not in perfect Technicolor glory, with its slightly scruffy edges and somewhat faded colors, was still there and waiting for me at the end of it (I fervently hoped), was my pot of (tarnished) gold. There are some who believe that Love should never be this hard and that what is meant to be, will be….and there is the other (somewhat melodramatic, self-posturing) school of thought that believes that “the path of Love ne’er did runneth smooth…” Given the pugnacious, somewhat ornery nature that makes up my “lovely” personality, there is no prize guessing which school of thought I subscribe to.

So, the seasons changed and the monsoons came to wash the (dirty) past away…Whether or not that pot of gold exists…I still find myself searching for that rainbow because only through my journey will I know if “all that glitters is (not) gold”.