Best. Roomies. EVAR!!!
Apr. 12th, 2008 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zana16So, I have roomies. Four, to be precise. There's four of us girls and one guy, let's call him L, and pretty much we're all more masculine than he is, so it works.
This afternoon I get home, am munching happily on raspberry pie (it only took me six months to make the damn thing) as I head back to my room, and L and his boyfriend come out of the bathroom together, naked, which is much more embarrassing for them than it is for me, so I leave them alone.
Half an hour later the doorbell rings. I think, eh, someone else'll get it. Someone else does.
It's L's parents. They have just dropped by, unannounced, on their 30-year-old son, and lo and behold they get to meet his boyfriend for the first time. Boyfriend, apparently, freaks out and bails. L shows his parents around the house, deals with power dynamics, deals with questions like "how come roomie B is mowing the lawn, we taught you to mow the lawn, you're the man of the house here" and gets the rather strange question "why does B shake with her left hand?" to which L of course had no answer cause there was no way he could know the truth.
Which is that when the doorbell rang, B was flat on her back naked, masturbating in bed. And threw on minimal clothes to answer the door, sure it was just M (roomie A's girlfriend), and opened the door to a nice-looking older couple, tried to introduce herself without shaking hands with the hand she'd been masturbating with, and then tried to run downstairs to warn L in case he was, er, in a compromising position.
Me, I have no sympathy for them. Thirteen years since he came out, they should know better than to just drop in on him on a Saturday afternoon. I would kill my dad if he came over without asking.
B wasn't sure whether to tell L what happened, but she and I kept bursting into bouts of snickering during dinner (we grilled asparagus and salmon just before the rain came) so we had to tell him. God, I hope B doesn't move out. She's the best. She can crack me up in no time.
Just par for the course at chez Zana & co.
This afternoon I get home, am munching happily on raspberry pie (it only took me six months to make the damn thing) as I head back to my room, and L and his boyfriend come out of the bathroom together, naked, which is much more embarrassing for them than it is for me, so I leave them alone.
Half an hour later the doorbell rings. I think, eh, someone else'll get it. Someone else does.
It's L's parents. They have just dropped by, unannounced, on their 30-year-old son, and lo and behold they get to meet his boyfriend for the first time. Boyfriend, apparently, freaks out and bails. L shows his parents around the house, deals with power dynamics, deals with questions like "how come roomie B is mowing the lawn, we taught you to mow the lawn, you're the man of the house here" and gets the rather strange question "why does B shake with her left hand?" to which L of course had no answer cause there was no way he could know the truth.
Which is that when the doorbell rang, B was flat on her back naked, masturbating in bed. And threw on minimal clothes to answer the door, sure it was just M (roomie A's girlfriend), and opened the door to a nice-looking older couple, tried to introduce herself without shaking hands with the hand she'd been masturbating with, and then tried to run downstairs to warn L in case he was, er, in a compromising position.
Me, I have no sympathy for them. Thirteen years since he came out, they should know better than to just drop in on him on a Saturday afternoon. I would kill my dad if he came over without asking.
B wasn't sure whether to tell L what happened, but she and I kept bursting into bouts of snickering during dinner (we grilled asparagus and salmon just before the rain came) so we had to tell him. God, I hope B doesn't move out. She's the best. She can crack me up in no time.
Just par for the course at chez Zana & co.