The Apartment That Wasn't

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Mike, whom I had been romantically stalking for some time, had escaped his ex-girlfriend and needed a place to live. I lived in a house with a dog and a huge crush on Mike, neither of which required much space. We were at a tenuous moment in our courtship, and I felt keeping Mike near would cement our bond. To me, the answer to his housing problem seemed as obvious as the empty drawer in my bureau, but he thought it tacky to move from one girl’s house right into another’s.

I told him he could stay with me, temporarily, while I helped him find an apartment. I used the word “temporarily” quite a bit during these negotiations, which of course is Smitten Kitten Speak for “forever.”

I further eased Mike’s reluctance by explaining the whole process would be beneficial to me, because he would be there to help me eat the big, delicious dinners I cooked for myself every night for no apparent reason. And, bonus: I had just read a book that proposed giving nightly back rubs could increase typing speed. Finally, I would have a back on which to test this theory. What a relief.

Mike could see it was a clear win-win situation.

I emptied out a closet and hid anything that could be perceived as a “shrine” so as to avoid spooking my nervous beau. Photos taken during our first date, photos of our second date, photos I took while he wasn’t looking using a high-powered telescopic lens; I put away all these cherished mementos. Spiders don’t hang Christmas lights on their webs.

A few days of co-habitation went by with no mention of the apartment search. I don’t remember if we were eating a slow-roasted chicken or perfectly medium-rare steak, but I do recall the fork hanging on Mike’s adorable lip one evening as he scanned the room as if he’d never noticed it before. He’d spotted the pile of mail, each envelope sporting my name. It reminded him that this was my house, not his. I’d meant to move that.

“I need to start looking for my apartment,” he said.

“Oh sure,” I agreed. “Hey, how about those Raiders?”

“I’m serious.”

“Of course! Hey, how was work?”

“It was fine, but we need to start looking for an apartment...”

“Naturally! Hey, is that a hummingbird outside?”

My diversionary tactics would last a few more days before Mike officially started the apartment hunt.