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The alternative to shacking


While I see the many practical and logistical reasons to shack, I will continue (until further notice) to remain a tenant in my Obcean apartment where I pay rent, utilities, Internet and cable. I am of course motivated by more than just the ghastly bills-the perks include but are not limited to guiltless enjoyment of trashy television without the standard male-I-can't-believe-you-watch-this exaggerated exhale during commercial breaks, and instead with a female companion who enjoys theses classic shows about the upper east side and precocious high schoolers even more than I, assuming that's possible.

Bottom line: There'll be NO shacking.

What occurs instead...

It started out with a shelf. No, not a book shelf-you know I don't read. A shelf in the medicine cabinet. Running into a no deodorant nor toothbrush situation more than once results in the evolution of a girlfriend shelf. A pro, in addition to the obvious better hygiene: the skeevy yet casual "glancing" at what's in that mysterious cabinet no longer has to exist. What? I'm just grabbin my retainer case-for a whole minute while simultaneously rising onto my tippy toes to maybe get a better view of what's livin' up top.

We're at a point of full disclosure, and I believe the girlfriend shelf deserves some of the credit.

Once fresher pits and breath are accomplished one gets tired of packing potential outfit changes in her already stuffed fake Coach bag. And so, a dresser drawer is offered...and a dresser drawer is accepted, gladly.

My time at the home of the significant boo is now cozy and quite functional for unexpected "get ready's." Beware give me an inch...and I'll probably ask for a glass of milk.

**Maybe I DO read ;) Seriously though, I'll take a kilometer at least...and the liberty of acting like I own the place. oops. I mean, I didn't come over the day after Thanksgiving and put up Christmas decorations...that would have been weird.

Did I mention I have a key?

Upon a confused exit from my (I mean his) bathroom an inquiring man asked, "Where'd that huge box of tampons come from???"

From under my sink Silly!

Ah, the alternative to shacking.

Comments

livelaughlove said…
Oh boy do I remember those days!! :) Soon you'll be trying to figure out where all of your jeans or *cough cough* underwear *cough cough* went, only to find them months later in that bottom drawer at your boo's house.
December 2, 2010 at 2:41 PM
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