The Flatmate Part 2

I knew that there was a chance that she might move out. She had told me that she had holiday to take in November and wouldn’t want to pay a month’s rent when she’d only be here for two weeks of the month. However, I thought, or hoped at least that she’d change her mind after she’d moved in and it was plain that we were getting on quite well. I had let my optimism run away with me though which is why it felt like a shock when she told me she was moving out.

I spoke to a friend recently who told me that the moment one of her employees decides to resign, that she hates them almost immediately. They may have been a great employee, but the employer now just feels a sense of disloyalty and rightly or wrongly hears the message that “I would rather work for someone else”. The employer is also faced with the embuggerance of having to find a new employee and so in their mind they are faced with a double negative of hassle and rejection.

In my case, the hassle element was also spiked with a ladle full of fear – an irrational fear that I wouldn’t find another flatmate as good as her. That I would be faced with an army of no shows and po-faced spinsters dragging their miserable fingers along work surfaces for inspection. I must have inadvertently conveyed all of this in my look, as the flatmate spent the rest of the evening in her room. Well, almost the rest of the evening.

She popped her head around the door about 20 or so minutes later. “It’s not you, you know, you’ve been great.” Oh my god, not that old chestnut! If I hadn’t felt rejected before, then I certainly felt like I was now being dumped – and in my own house as well!

With the end of all relationships though, there is a time for reflection. I spoke to a friend of mine last week who broke up with her ex boyfriend last year. She had met him for lunch recently and couldn’t believe how different he seemed now that she was no longer going out with him. “He’s just so fucking annoying. I can’t believe I didn’t see it at the time” she said.

It got me thinking. Just over a week ago I had been walking through the City and noticed that Stephen Fry’s new autobiography, The Fry Chronicles, (which I am loving) was on discount at Waterstones. I bought it and put it on the coffee table when I got home as I checked my emails. The flatmate got back from work shortly afterwards and sat on the sofa.

Flatmate - Oh, have you bought yourself a book?

Me - Yeah, it’s Stephen Fry’s latest autobiography.

Flatmate – (munching on crisps) Who’s that? Some politician?

Me – it’s Stephen Fry, the comedian. You know.. Fry and Laurie? Blackadder? QI?

Flatmate – What are they?

Me – (thinking, What the fuck!!??)

Me – You seriously haven’t heard of Stephen Fry or any of those programmes?

Flatmate – No, they must be pretty old.

And with that she went to her room to finish her crisps, leaving me incredulous at the conversation we had just had. This wasn’t to be a one off though. A couple of days later we were watching the evening news as the story broke concerning Lady Ga Ga giving her ‘Prime Rib’ speech in protest at the US policy towards gays in the military. “Because I’m gay, I don’t get to enjoy the greatest cut of meat that my country has to offer.” She said.

Flatmate – Is Lady Ga Ga gay then?

Me – It would seem so.

Flatmate – Oh. Why did she decide to be gay?

Me – (rolls eyes) It’s a new LA thing. That’s why she wore a meat dress last week.

Flatmate – Really?

Me – Absolutely, Madonna came out last week too and she wore a meat trouser suit yesterday at a press conference – didn’t you see it?

Flatmate – No, I didn’t buy a paper yesterday.

Me – Oh well, I hear that Topshop are reproducing it and using Heston Blumenthal as a consultant in case you get bored wearing it.

Flatmate – Really?

Me – No.

When I first decided to get myself a flatmate and rent the spare room, it was done out of necessity. I decided that it was the wise thing to do, given the fact that I was out of work. With no job offer in sight I had to consider how I was going to pay the mortgage. I was concerned and anxious and even more so because the advert I placed, initially at least, did not yield the responses I had hoped for. So when the first person who showed interest said, “I’d like to take the room” I bit her hand off all the way down to her ankle. It’s been an interesting experience but ideally I want someone who has an outside chance of being a mate as well as a flatmate.

I re-advertised. This time however London’s student community being back at university has resulted in many more people looking for places to live and responses have been very good this time. I’d like to say that I now have a screening process of sorts. “Would I like to have a beer with this person?” is the new rule of thumb and having used it, I think I may now just have found the right person.