Another Second Street Story

A recent cell phone conversation with my roommate went something like this:

Him: “Hey dude, what’s up?

Me: “I’m fine. What are you doing tonight?”

Him: “I’m going to come home and then go to Starbucks to study.”

My roomie flies up to Boston from DC every weekend to take classes for a master’s degree to be a medical assistant.

Me: “Hey, I didn't do any cleaning today since you said you were going to do it tonight when you got home from work.”

Him: “Ok dude, so tell me why do I have to clean the fucking apartment when I have a full time job, have to go up to Boston every weekend, study every night and you’re just laying around every day wacking off or whatever?”

Me: “Well I just thought since you offered you were down with it. The cleaning I mean.”

Full Disclosure: A friend of mine, an Arab from the UAE, was coming to see me over the weekend so I told my roomie  that I needed to clean the apartment. The Arab prince is a stickler for cleanliness. And he’s 29 years old so you think I’m NOT going to do what pleases him? My roomie willingly offered to do the cleaning this time. I mean WTF?

Him: “Look, I don’t give a flying fuck about Abdul so you can just stuff it. You know what I mean?”

Me: “Well, yeah but I thought you were OK with doing it since I’ve been cleaning up the place for the past few months,”

Him: “What is it with you dude? You have no respect for my schedule? You think I have all this time to spare just to make sure that your Arab fuck buddy is happy?”

Me: “Well, you don’t have to get all bent out of shape about it! It’s OK if you don’t have time. I’ll do it myself!”

Him: “OK, so another thing, tell me how it is that I can clean the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room and both bedrooms in an hour and it takes you two days to accomplish the same?”

Me: “Well I guess that just has to be the fact that you were raised in a Black family and I was raised in a white one. You know how “we” are about such things.”

Much laughter from the other side. This is one of our regular flash points.

Him: “Look, asshole, I’ll clean up the place when I get home tonight, OK?”

Me: “Well don’t put yourself out homie. I mean, shit, if you’re all that stressed out, fine, I’ll just do it myself.”

Him: “Don’t give me that righteous white crap, OK? Or I’ll beat your ass ‘til Sunday when I come home tonight. Got it?”

So by this time I began to think that this exchange was Sooooooo much like the kind of exchanges that I used to have with my ex-wife that it was beginning to freak me out. More colorful maybe, but way too fucking familiar.

Me: “Look homie, this is sounding way too much like the marriage conversations I used to have with my ex and I’m not going to go there.”

Much more hearty laughter over the phone.

Him: “You are too much dude!”

Me: “Yeah I know I’m special. But I don’t want to relive my past OK? After all you are just a roommate and not a spouse!”

More laughter.

Him: “Understood homie. Just trying to keep it real I guess. Still love you.”

Me: “OK, so are you going to clean the place or should I do it myself?”

Him: “How bout if we talk about it when I get home?”

Me: “No problem homie. See you later. Love you.”

I mean, tell me this isn’t love? What’s scary though is that the two of us are very much like an old married couple. But you know, I’m OK with that. As is he. We really do care about each other and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Nor would he.

I love the man.

Peace and love.

Scott-tay

PS: Guess whether or not he cleaned up when he got home. NO! He got “involved” with some “friend” of his and spent all night chatting with him.

Oh well, c’est la vie! But I still love him.