My door is always open, and over the years a large number of people have slept on the sofa in my rundown boho flat. It’s a calm place, or at least it’s meant to be. But I think I might have made a mistake in the person I’ve rented a room to.
When Brian moved out I had a message from an acquaintance who was looking for a place. I was in America and couldn’t organise anything very effectively. I agreed for her to move in and she immediately haggled the rent down. Again, I was not in a place where I could negotiate easily.
On Saturday night I got a message last minute to say that she had a friend staying on the sofa. I changed my plans as she said they were heading to sleep and I thought I’d let them have space.
Tristan and I had been planning on coming back to mine for some drinks and a catch-up. We went to his instead.
Last night he showed up again with her and I met him. I didn’t like him. I found his energy quite hard to deal with. Punchy alpha male type, oneupping and playing status games. It never blends well with my energy, that sort of shit. I was heading to bed though so I just welcomed him and called it a bit early for myself. Just because I instinctively dislike someone doesn’t mean they can’t have a bed for a night. I didn’t think he’d be back.
They were gone in the morning. But then when I got home from lunch, he was here again with her.
This time he was angrily cooking in nothing but his pants while she was in the bath. The pants and the cooking – it takes me weeks to get to that stage in shared accommodation. Here he is after two nights sleeping on the sofa happily throwing things around. I went and locked myself in my room while they fought and he made himself at home.
There’s big piles of unpleasant manipulation going on here that I can’t even comprehend.
They had a massive fight and went out. Now they’re home, both in her room next to mine, and the argument clearly hasn’t stopped. The atmosphere is so thick I could cut it with a cheese knife. He’s 56. She’s mid twenties. I don’t like this one bit.
He’s a controller and I don’t want him in my home. This place is and needs to be a calm and relaxing place. I’ve literally got no headroom for this bullshit, but I’m not sure what to do with it short term. It’s close to bedtime tonight so I reckon I’ll have to look at it in the morning, but I’ve brought a hammer into my room and I’ve locked the door because I don’t trust him not to kick off about something and go on a rampage. I’m feeling extraordinarily tense just picking up on their energy. This is no way for me to wind down on my day off.
She has an extreme nervous energy even without him in the equation. With her bringing people like this in here? No way. Just no. I won’t have it long term. Three nights is already too much.
I’m not sure how the conversation will go tomorrow but I’ll need to have it. I suspect I’ll be looking for a flatmate very soon.