Monday, 8:20 pm – Candidate 1:
Me: “What do you do for work?”
Him: “I’m uh…between jobs right now. But I’m hoping to find something soon.”
Me: “Okay. So what was your previous job?”
Him: “I was a dancer.”
Me: “Oh, like a ballroom dancer?”
Him: <Pause> “Uh...like an exotic dancer.”
Tuesday, 12:35 pm – Candidate 2:
Me: “So, you’re not opposed to living with a cat?”
Her: “Not at all. I actually have a pet too. I’d like to bring it with me.”
Me: “Oh cool. I’m fine with that as long as it gets along with my cat. What kind of pet is it?”
Her: “A scorpion.”
Wednesday, 5:12 pm – Candidate 2:
Me: “Great, I’ve asked all that I needed to ask and everything sounds good. Do you have any questions for me?”
Her: “Yeah…do you own a TV, computer or a cell phone?”
Me: “Of course. And you’re free to use the TV and computer anytime you want.”
Her: “Well, actually, I have electromagnetic hypersensitivity, so I can’t. You wouldn’t be able to use them whenever I’m around either. I’d get severe headaches and rashes if you did. Do you think you could use them only when I’m out?”
Thursday, 9:21 pm – Candidate 3:
Her: “What kind of cat do you have? Because I only get along with some types of cats and not others.”
Me: “Oh, well…MoMo is a male, around two years old. He’s super gentle and nice. He doesn’t bite or scratch, so you don’t have to worry. He shouldn’t bother you.”
Her: “Yeah, but what kind of cat is he? Is he like, a purebred or a domestic? Because I don’t get along with purebreds…or even if they are mixed, but with more than 60% of a certain breed, I don’t get along with them either. Or if they have tiger stripes - especially the orange ones. Orange stripes are definitely no good…”
Friday 5:16 pm - Candidate 4:
Me: “So, what are your work hours like?”
Him: “Usual. Nine-to-five.”
Me: “Are you opposed to living with a cat?”
Him: “No.”
Me: “Do you have any allergies?”
Him: “Nope.”
Me: “Do you anticipate having a lot of visitors?”
Him: “Dunno.”
Me: “Do you smoke, drink or do any drugs?”
Him: “I drink.”
Me: “How do you feel about splitting the cleaning duties?”
Him: “Okay.”
Me: “Um…how do you spend your weekends usually?”
Him: “Depends.”
Me: “Depends on what?”
Him: “You know, just depends.”
Me: <Pause> “Do you always talk like this?”
Him: “Like what?”
I hung up my work phone on the cradle harder than I should have. Cecile, my cubicle neighbor, looked up at me in the middle of her typing. “Roommate search not improving?”
I huffed out a sigh. “No. Who knew there were so many weird people out there?!” With my pen, I crossed out Candidate #5’s phone number written on my scratch pad. Hard. And then I scratched it out some more until the number was no longer legible. “At this rate, I’m going to find a roommate sometime next year!”
Cecile forced supportive smile, sensing my tension. “It might take a while finding the right one, but remember, it only takes one to make it right.”
“That sounds like something that belongs on a motivational poster,” I commented drily. “I feel far from being motivated right now.”
“Maybe you should have taken the male exotic dancer,” said Kyle from my right. Kyle sat directly across from me, separated by the main hallway that stretches from our department to the rest of the office. “Could have been hot for you and any of your girlfriends that visit,” he continued, waggling his eyebrows in jest.
I turned around in my chair to face him, giving him a good glare. “He had a pole. One that he wanted to put up in my living room,” I replied. “And I remind you, he was unemployed. How am I supposed to know if he could afford to pay rent on time?”
“And if he paid cash, where that money’s been sitting at,” Cecile winked.
“You mean what it's been sitting on? Or what’s been sitting on it?” Kyle said, not skipping a beat. He and Cecile laughed at my expense. “Hey, at least it’d be better than the scorpion lady or the anti-purebred cat person,” Kyle managed to say in between laughs.
“Or the electromagnetic girl,” chimed Cecile, also between chuckles.
I sighed. They were both right. I felt defeated, and it was only the first week of this roommate hunt.
My phone rang again, and I answered it.
“Hello, I’m calling about the apartment rental ad,” said a soft-spoken male voice. He had a mild Asian accent. “Is there still a vacancy?”
I sat up straighter, sensing with some hope that this person would be normal. “Yes, it is. I’m just doing some preliminary screening for interested parties. Would you mind if I asked you some questions?”
Ten minutes later, I had the widest smile on my face. Cecile and Kyle both watched me carefully when I hung up the phone, quietly this time, with no slamming.
“Bingo,” I grinned. “I’m showing the place tomorrow morning,” I announced with satisfaction.
“Finally,” Kyle said as he pushed his black rimmed eye glasses up on his nose. "And let's hope when he shows up that he doesn't have three eyes," he concluded, turning his attention back to his computer.
“That’s great, Ellie,” said Cecile, "and good luck." She looked at the clock on the wall. “And I should be off,” she said, standing up and grabbing her jacket, scarf and purse. “You kids have a nice weekend. I’m going to pick up my rowdy kids before they get into trouble at the school yard.”
“Make sure they’re smoking the good weed, Cecile,” replied Kyle. “Not the cheap stuff.”
“Hey, you shush, Kyle. Don’t even suggest that.” Cecile gave Kyle one of her mean motherly looks before shaking her head and smiling. “Remind me to never introduce you to my kids.”
“Bye Cecile,” I said, smiling and waving her goodbye. I looked over at Kyle. “You’re horrible. I hope you’re not considering being a father anytime soon.”
“Don’t worry, Ellie. No plans for that yet. Not unless I knock someone up,” Kyle winked.
I jotted my apartment showing appointment into my day planner before looking at my email inbox. I had gotten two new email messages. One was from Madison, which I clicked open:
Hey Ells! Hope you’re having a good day at work. Look at this message I got from Simon on Facebook - I know you’re reluctant to meet this guy, but this was too sweet not to pass along:
“Hi Madison,
Hope you’re well since we last spoke. One of your Facebook feeds popped up on my page recently with a photo of you and the friend you had mentioned. You didn’t tell me how pretty she is. I’m looking forward to meeting her if you are still willing to introduce us. Let me know what she thinks.
Regards,
Simon”
Isn’t he sweet?? You’ve got to talk to him.
- Maddie
I chewed on my lip. This again, I thought. What do I tell Madison? I turned around again to look over at Kyle, who was intensely studying something on his screen. From my angle, it was hard to see what it was. I hoped it wasn’t the latest tech news on bass guitars. Or worse, the latest photos of Olivia Wilde.
“Kyle, a question for you. Would you ever go on a blind date?”
“Only if she’s hot. Or rich.”
I sighed. “Forget it. Nevermind.”
“Is this about your friend that’s trying to hook you up?”
I paused, giving him a questioning look. “Wait, I didn’t tell you about that.”
“Didn’t have to. I eavesdropped on you and Annabelle talking in the lunchroom.”
You had to love Kyle’s bluntness sometimes.
“You should go,” he continued. “I mean, if you trust your friend’s judgment.”
“Most of the time,” I said.
Kyle finally looked up from his screen. “Well, the way I see it Ellie, it’s all about calculated risks. You have to ask yourself: What do you have to lose if you do meet him? And, what do you have to lose if you don’t meet him?”
My eyebrows knitted together as I thought about this. I made a noise of uncertainty.
“I mean, he could turn out to be a real loser if it’s bad. But if it’s good…” Kyle raised his brows, pausing for dramatic effect, “it could be good.”
Kyle waited. When I said nothing, he continued. “Why don’t you just start by emailing him? Do some electronic flirting. See if you can talk about stuff with screens separating you. And if you can hold a convo that way, then you can try meeting him afterwards.”
“You think so?” I asked, skeptical about both his advice and actually taking it.
“Yeah,” Kyle shrugged casually, as if we were discussing types of beer. “I mean, like I said, what have you got to lose?”
“My dignity?”
“But that will only happen if you have sex on the first date. And correct me if I’m wrong, Ellie, but you don’t seem like the type.”
I picked up my stress ball, kneading it in my palms. “What if we end up having nothing to talk about online? What do I do then?”
“Then tell him you believe in sex after marriage. Trust me, that will end the conversation.”
I chucked my stress ball at him. “I better not regret listening to you, Kyle.”
“You won’t. I am the advice giver. I’m like, Ask Jeeves dot com.”
“But I thought Jeeves quit,” I rebuttled.
“He did,” Kyle said, turning his attention back to his computer. “And that’s why he works here now.”
I nodded with a smile, playing along. “Got it Jeeves. Oops, I mean, Kyle.”
Kyle looked up once more, meeting my eye contact. He winked. “Shhhhh…”
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