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There's an american proverb or anecdote that instantly conveys a strong message via it's simplicity and blunt nature when it hits your ears, "don't sh*t where you eat." It's simple and direct. A few variations of this phrase are, "Don't sh*t where you sit," "Don't sh*t on your own doorstep," and probably the most euphemistic example, "Don't be sick in one's own hat." Generally these are all fancy ways to say don't make problems for yourself in places you frequent.
This is the story of how I ended up having sex with one of my female room mates which eventually lead to me having to find a new living situation. This story requires a bit of back information, to understand completely; bear with me.
When I first moved out to San Diego, CA, I only knew a handful of people. The whole concept of the trip was to expand my horizons (literally), learn more about other people/myself, and discover what else life has to offer. I realized if I wasn't going to take such a big chance now, then I'd likely never do it later.
Prior to making my move I needed to set up my living arrangements. I made the mistake of moving in with a young guy I found off of craigslist. He lied to me in our back and forth correspondence prior to my moving in. This guy didn't have a life and his entire existence was unimaginably plain. Work, sleep, video games, girlfriend, in that order.
I told him I was looking for someone to show me the area, I wanted to room with someone that would be up for hitting the bar scene with me on the weekends. Since I didn't know anyone there I explained that I would need some major assistance in expanding my social/professional network. He said he worked hard during the week but loved hitting the bars with tons of friends around the area on the weekends. In truth, this kid didn't have any friends His only "friends" were co-workers at the enterprise rent-a-car. And he never went to bars because he thought they were a waste of money.
He claimed that his "hot" girl friend had tons of hot friends and it wouldn't be a problem to pair me up with one of them to hit the town regularly. In reality, She only came over to watch him play video games... and fight. She never spoke more than a few words to me at a any given time. I never met her friends.
He said there were hot young female neighbors that were "awesome" and they had a reputation to "f*ck everybody." Apparently they would be a ton of fun to party with. The first week I moved in, I heard the people living in house in front of us were having people over. I stopped by with a 30 rack of bud-light and a handle of Jack Daniels and said, "Hey I'm Chris' new room mate, we live in the condo right behind you all. I haven't had a chance to meet any of you guys yet. I just moved here from Virginia a few days ago and I don't know anyone in the area yet. I brought some alcohol, can I join you guys?"
You would have thought I said, "I'm going to be preforming an abortion in your back yard do you guys want to watch." Looking around the room, all I spotted were pudgy trashy looking girls with muffin tops. Awkward stares and a long silence were eventually stifled by one girl saying, "Um, we're pre-gaming right now. We're not having a party. Thanks." And they closed the door.
Lastly, this guy claimed to be a regular "weekend warrior" and he said that he loved hitting the bars. We went out once together the entire four months I lived with him. He always had an excuse to stay in. The first time he ever tried whiskey was with me (which is just sad at age 22). The kid was a loser, slob, and a major douche-bag. After the first week I knew it was a mistake and I was ready for a change.
When the lease came to an end toward month number four I had already been perusing a the Rooms/shared section of craigslist for months in search of my next place. I ran into all the familiar problems you can expect with meeting strangers and broken toys off of Craigslist. I got to tour bedrooms that smelled like animal kennels, rooms smaller than my current closet, flaky losers (california corn-flakes), halfway houses, and other bizarre freak shows that ultimately lead me to respond to an ad for a room with two girls in a reasonably priced house only five blocks from the beach and one block from the bars. Things were look up.
I exchanged pictures and facebook information prior to meeting up with one of the girls. Eventually one of my future room mates and I set a time and date to meet at a bar so that all parties would be comfortable with "who or what" they would be moving in with. I was pleasant and friendly during our meeting and kept all flirting to minimum. This was the girl I would inevitably sleep with three months later. She was a year younger, not terribly attractive due to the mouth full of crackerjacks she had for teeth, and a slightly frumpy body to boot. In her defense she seemed nice and didn't come off as someone capable of mood swings, just an overall sweet girl. Let's call her Annie.
We signed a lease agreement shortly thereafter and within a week and a half I was all moved into my new place. I actually pictured my life being very similar to the show, "Three's Company."
Living with girls for just the first few weeks had opened my mind to new ideas about women. Given my previous living situations were dorms, fraternity houses, and home; I suppose I had never imagined myself living with in such close quarters with girls my own age. I hadn't the slightest clue that women were more than capable of being such slobs until this experience. I pictured them decorating the house and making it an immaculate pleasant little place to live in. Instead, I experienced the cold realities of sharing a bathroom with girls that constantly shed long hairs, had poor toilette etiquette (everybody poops, I just don't want to see it), and truly sickening encounters with used feminine products. Not to mention these girls were leeches when it came to everything from toilette paper, to beer, to ice cream.
One of the more interesting observations I regularly viewed with interest was the blasé nature of promiscuity amongst the women between the ages of 21-25 in Southern California. Here's a fun fact, all women will go through a slutty stage. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, it just hadn't sunk in until I saw it regularly first hand. And let's be clear, we all have our own definitions of what a "slut" is. But even the harmless looking ones will prove this point while dragging a fat guy with a goatee and flat brim hat home from the bars, because they can. As you might expect, my room mates vehemently denied that they would ever hook up with random guys they met at bars. This was an effort to curtail any type of suspicions that might lead anyone to think otherwise. But nearly every weekend, I would make my way downstairs for breakfast and watch the gamut of dudes stumble out of the girls respective bedrooms from the night before.
When I pried further and discussed relationships at length with these girls and it really gave me some solid perspective on how things worked. Both of the girls had at least two guys they were regularly "hooking up with" or as they put it, "seeing" while they also were regularly flirting via text a steady four to five additional guys. Much of the text flirting didn't go beyond just that because the girls said they enjoyed the attention and compliments throughout the day. When I asked their friends if they had similar life styles, they all agreed that it was pretty common place. I don't want to say this is staggering but it does give you the ability to position yourself and see these things a bit more clearly.
