The New Flatmate

You may remember that I mentioned the new rule of thumb for finding flatmates – ie, that would I like to have a beer with this person, had resulted in me finding just the right flatmate? Yes, well he was a recent-ish graduate who was looking to move into London. Well I’m not going to talk you through the viewing, but he liked what he saw and wanted to move in. He said that it was just what he was looking for, although there was a slight issue. This was that he wouldn’t be able to move in for two weeks but he paid me a £500 deposit to keep the room. This worked out quite well as the ex flatmate still had a week to go before moving out and so I’d have plenty of time to give the room a clean. The ex-flatmate by the way, you know, the one who was asthmatic and wanted to clean her freshly cleaned room when she moved in? Yes her - as it turns out she didn’t clean her room at all during her two month stay. She didn’t dust, didn’t change her sheets, didn’t vacuum and when you looked at the window sill, you’d be forgiven for thinking that the room had passed through an Icelandic ash cloud.

And then suddenly my first flatmate had gone and I was relieved to come back from work to find the spare room my own again as I threw my overcoat onto the spare bed. The new guy would be moving into the flat in a week’s time. That’s plenty of time to indulge in naked cooking time free of interruption.

So moving day came, and I realised that the flat was less tidy than I thought and so I went through the same backbreaking and sweat ridden cleaning routine that I went through before – well, first impressions and all that, and he didn’t turn up. He texted to say that he’d had to go abroad with work for two weeks but that was he really looking forward to moving in when he got back. Oh well, at least I had a clean flat and wouldn’t have to worry about putting my pants on to make a cup of tea in the morning for the next fortnight.

I took advantage of the two week period and had friends over to stay. I never really had friends stay over before I had a flatmate, but now that the spare room looks rather pretty, it sort of seems rude not to. So much so that I almost began to resent the impending moving in date, which came around in the blink of an eye, and he didn’t turn up. He texted to say that he flew back the day before and was organising stuff and he was sorry to keep me hanging on, but was looking forward to moving in and would pick the key up in the week – he didn’t.

I almost wanted to call him and tell him to fuck off and that I was letting the room to someone else. I spoke to G though who reassured me that he was probably just having a manic time of it, “I’ve been like that before and he did leave you a £500 deposit don’t forget”. Maybe she’s right I thought and maybe I was being slightly harsh, but I wanted reliability though and I had a nagging doubt. In my mind a conversation was playing over and over which went something like “Oh hi, er.. sorry. I’m a bit brassic this month, can I pay you extra next month.”

He texted me to say he’d be over on the Saturday afternoon, but I was out and so suggested that he stopped by in the week. He didn’t reply. By this time I knew that I was going to resent him living with me and resent his ugly girlfriend staying over at weekends, eating off my plates, drinking coffee in my kitchen and generally breathing my air. Ok, I don’t know she’s ugly, but she’s going out with him and he was proving himself to be a dick and she obviously likes going out with a dick, which means she’s ugly. I all but decided that life would be much easier and more pleasurable if he didn’t move in and I gave him back his deposit. There was a problem though – I’d spent his deposit and so any handing back of monies meant dipping into savings as I hadn’t been paid in the new job yet. My phone rang.

“Oh h..hi. it’s Andy. I’m afraid that I’ve had some bad news today. I’ve been made redundant with immediate effect and I won’t be able to move into the flat now.”

I knew it, I fucking knew it.

“You just found out today? Is that why you’ve been unreliable?”

“Er... It’s my boss. He’s gone into meltdown and everyone’s been made redundant. You can keep the deposit if you like”

“Can I? that’s very sweet of you. Do you have any idea how many people I turned away because I said the room was taken? Do you have any idea how stressful it is and...and....”

I wanted to be angry and even slightly nasty. Truth be told though I wasn’t desperately angry. You can’t really fake anger, you have to mean it and I didn’t and so I opted for sarcasm and emotional guilt. I was annoyed at his unreliability but also relieved. The man had paid me £500 to ensure that I live on my own for a month - part of me even felt faintly smug.

Will I get another flatmate? Perhaps, but for the moment I am enjoying the fact that I am working again and have discovered a new found love for enjoying the uninterrupted space of my own little castle.