The one thing I have been looking forward to the most about buying my own house is having the freedom to have company whenever I like without anyone watching and judging my decisions. My old roommate and friend was cool, but she couldn’t help but offer her opinion about the men she saw coming and going on my account.
I’ve been in my own home for two weeks now, and it has been heavenly. I have set up some house rules for myself to hold myself accountable at all times. Rule #1: No overnight company for more than one night. Rule #2: Always refer to Rule #1.
I was doing good up until two weeks ago. I was able to discourage my dates from coming back to my house and have instead visited them at their places. However, one of my top-notch lovers invited himself over, and I readily agreed, and it’s turned into a tricky situation.
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When he arrived, I was ready to pounce. We did the deed, and I fell into his arms afterward, cuddling with him into the wee hours of the morning. By sunrise, he was up and dressed, ready to leave. On his way out, he mentioned that he would see me later. I wasn’t clear about what he meant, but sure enough, I got a call later that evening suggesting that we order in and watch some TV. And that’s exactly what we did.
By nightfall, we were both comfortable, and I was ready for bed. He grabbed me by the hand and took me into my bedroom, and two hours later, we were both fast asleep. I woke up in a panic to go to the bathroom and realized I had broken my rule.
I hurriedly shook my sleeping guest to try to wake him, but he simply turned over and went back to sleep. When the sun came up, he awakened, talking about grabbing some food and coming back to watch movies in bed. We did that. In fact, we did everything he suggested for close to two weeks, and every time, I thought he would finally give me back the privacy of my house. I would hear the doorbell, and it would be him with some sort of gift or token in hand and a dimpled smile.
Now I can’t get him out of my house. He has at least two pairs of shoes stored on my shoe rack and clothes in my laundry hamper. He makes comments about ‘floating’ around town until he gets notified about an apartment for which he applied, but I think it’s all a lie. At first, it was cute and nice to have someone sleeping in my bed, but now it is proving to be an actual problem. He will not leave, and I want him to go already!
How do I get this smooth-talking hobosexual out of my house once and for all?”
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