My Life Is An Open House

A million people showed up last night to look at the two available rooms in our house. Okay, not a million, perhaps 50, but it sure felt like a million. The beginning of the event found me chipper, outgoing and highly organized. I ushered strangers through the house with great efficiency and made small talk.

In an effort to cut down on the number of times I'd have to answer the same question, I created a fact sheet about the house and the rooms, which each visitor received. If you're ever faced with the task of filling open spaces in a group house, I highly suggest creating a fact sheet. Ours included information such as rent, utilities, parking, public transportation, the landlord, and the skinny on the people already living there. Not only did it reduce the number of questions we had to answer, but it gave people something tangible to walk away with--helpful for those visiting multiple homes.

An hour in however, I was spent. Getting through the event required something that my friend Angel refers to as the "Kate charm." This is essentially, a magical quality that I can turn off and on at will that enables me to be charismatic, flirty and outgoing. Angel usually sees me employ it when trying to get free drinks out of people or if I'm on the prowl. The "Kate charm" doesn't get turned on as often as I'd like because I find using it to be a very draining. It's like a super-charged version of me that wears down my batteries incredibly fast. It has a limited amount of juice, and when it runs out not only do I return to my naturally calm, introverted state, I tend to also being a little cranky and impatient. Such was the case last night.

The shot of vodka and the Parliament Light I snuck during one of our down times sort of helped, but not enough.

Anyway, we managed to talk to a ton of potential roommates, most of whom were extremely cool and generally awesome. We had a really hard time narrowing it down. Also nice was how enthusiastic most of them seemed to be about the house. Sometimes we get people in for tours who don't understand the charm of a 100-year old house. Not the case with this bunch. Almost everyone seemed delighted by the quirks of our house and the opportunity to live in such a prime location. It definitely reminded me of how good I have it.

Because two men are moving out, I think it's important to try to maintain the house's gender balance, or at least to not steer drastically off-course. Problem is, we had a dearth of male applicants. Mostly our house was filled with extremely cute young women, all of whom seem to work for non-profits of various kinds. To be honest, it made me feel a little old and haggard.


But we're slowly narrowing it down and have some good boys and girls who we're talking to in more depth. Just to get to know them outside the open house madness. Hopefully we'll find at least one guy to move in. I am secretly routing for the boy from Boston who loves the Red Sox and freely uses to term "wicked" in conversation. I really want to avoid living in a house composed of four women and one man. I don't think that much estrogen under one roof is a good idea for anyone.

Yet Another Open House

Tonight we have to once again open the doors of our home to total strangers, and hope that two of them will turn out to be good roommate potential. Yup, two of my roommates are moving out. One, a scientist who has been working at the NIH is moving back to England because his Visa is up, and the other is moving in with his girlfriend. I have mixed feelings about the latter's departure.

I've told you about him before--the wonderful roommate who had been many things to me, until ultimately embodying the form of a wonderful person to live with. I've already told you how much I love coming home to him, how despite the fact that we never quite consummated a romantic relationship, that we nonetheless sometimes lightheartedly spar like old lovers. That we tease each other for no reason, that there's this wonderful unspoken *thing* that I can't even describe--simply the end result of having endured a bit of emotional trauma and emerging in one piece.

I'm happy for him that his relationship with his girlfriend is so solid and strong. They seem extremely well matched and very "right" for one another. But my selfish heart is worried. I've seen male friends get swallowed into the miasma of live-in relationships, and they tend to become practically dead to their single, female friends. The combination of male friend+cohabitation with girlfriend=one less friend for HP.

Until now it's been easy to maintain a friendship. Whenever I wanted to see him, I'd pop into the TV room where he'd no doubt be watching some God-awful 80's low- budget kung fu movie. But now, living with the GF, I know things will be different. Although she and I get along fine, we've never really clicked. Objectively, I know she's a great girl, but I'm a jealous Scorpio and I resent her just a teeny bit. After all, he and I were batting around the word "relationship" when she entered the picture. I don't know what GF knows about our history, but I certainly have my reasons for not getting overly chummy with her.

Right now, all of our hanging out is spontaneous and sporadic. It takes place in the kitchen, while he makes me coffee on weekends that the GF isn't around, or in the dining room on a Sunday morning as he catches me sneaking in from being out the night before and I entertain him with stories that remind him what it's like to be single and lose. There's no real effort and that's what worries me.

I can deal with not living with him, but what worries me is the fact that we won't be friends at all anymore, that our friendship will reveal itself to only have been relevant within the context of one building. A lot of my friendships have evolved in ways that I'm not particularly happy with in recent months. Although I have certainly gained many wonderful new companions, these snags in the fabric of my social life continue to unsettle me. I'm not looking forward to experiencing another one.


So tonight we will open our doors and commence the search to replace somebody utterly irreplaceable.