So as many of you recall I had a strange houseguest last weekend. I’m not one for houseguests my precious. I request that all one night stands leave by breakfast time especially if they have insulting (non bacon) breakfast requirements and I ask that family sign a waiver that they won’t stay more than a week. (this should be incorporated for real. They don’t leave!) I just can’t cope with the houseguest thing especially when I live in a tiny dungeon in London like the rest of us.
But this one …. I’ve known him online for years and we’ve always gotten on well in an LOL way but nothing deeper. I don’t do long distance deep anymore. One crackhead is enough for even me to learn that virtual isn’t the way. He asked a few times if he could stay and told me that he was low maintenance. That should have been the sign for me to signpost him to the nearest hotel. That’s like a liar telling you that they’re really honest. So let’s see. How did he fuck this up?
He wakes me up at 6.27am on a working day to confirm his plans. He’d already missed two night calls because he was too busy living it up elsewhere. But no, my sleep is clearly not a consideration. We agree to meet at Victoria coach station, left luggage at 5.50pm. I rush from Zone 3 work to get there and ….no sign of him. Then he whatsapps.
Travelling Wasteman: I’m here.
Me: Where? At the coach station?
Travelling Wasteman: Yep
Me: At left luggage?
Travelling Wasteman: Yep
So I call him and tell him he can’t be there as I’m there. I ask again. The COACH station. He says yes outside platform 8. Platform 8? I ask him if he can see any coaches. He admits that no, he can’t So what can you see? He says, a train track. I’m already mad but march round to the TRAIN station and he’s there with bags like he’s looking to move under a bridge somewhere. Who travels with so much shit? A somebody with no fixed abode.
I ask him half heartedly if I can help with his bags. This is the time when you give the lady (yes my precious I do mean me) the easiest bag to carry. Ie. The one with wheels, but no. He gives me the ‘Ghana must go’ laundry bag which nearly breaks my back and we go look for a taxi as now I’m late for French.
In the taxi he says he needs to use my washing machine and has forgotten his adaptor for his mac. I’m conjugating verbs in my head hoping there isn’t a pop quiz. Already I can see that low maintenance was a lie. I ask him how long he’s staying and he says a week. Sigh. I dump his laundry bag in the flat, hand him my international adapter then run to French. He tried to give me some cock and bull story about asking 2 people if there was a left luggage at the coach station and being told that there wasn’t. Just say you fucked up! But no, this dude takes zero responsibility.
Later I get home to find him gone but he’s left his clothes in the washing machine. Is dude expecting me to hang his clothes? Fuck that shit. I wake up the next day to find underwear hung around the place and then it hits me. He’s a 14 year old boy. Who doesn’t know how to hang boxers on a radiator for goodness sake! These clothes will smell but, not my problem. I don’t touch briefs.
I’m hosting an event the next day and it starts at 6.30. He states he’ll be there at 6.30. He rocks up at 7.50. I ask him later why he was late and he gives me some bullshit about not having been in London for 15 years. So? We’re walking back and he makes some disparaging remark about me walking fast for a short person. This dude is not getting how annoying he is. Like uber annoying.
He tries to give me a gift. It’s a bottle of cognac. I’ve known him long enough for him to know that I don’t drink anything but vodka, prosecco and champagne. But wait, what is this? He opens the box and he’s …., I ask him if he has drunk some of it and he shakes his head, chortling and says yes. So he’s recycling a gift and hoping I wouldn’t notice that there is a fifth missing? I tell him to keep it. It’s beyond rude.
Day 3 and I’m losing the will to live. I’ve bought a cigarette and I’m chain smoking. This means about 10 puffs of a zero nicotine e ciggie but for me after 14 years of not smoking this is a lot. He states that he doesn’t drink dairy milk and would like some cereal. I go get some soya milk and cornflakes. And bananas. I’ve bought food but my food isn’t good enough. I also notice he doesn’t flush the loo and he doesn’t use the bin liner. I’m tired. This is tiring. Luckily he’s out most of the day and I can read in bed remembering the weekends when I had the house to myself. That’s nearly every weekend. I know, I’m spoiled.
Then Sunday comes. The night before he said he’d be out by 11am. I wait in bed until noon then get up for a run. He’s still there faffing. I tell him I’m going for a run and that by the time I get back he’ll be gone so I’ll see him later. This was not a suggestion. This was a rainy day and about an hour later I come back and …..he’s in the shower? What the fuck!
So now I’m sweating, wet from the rain and have to wait to use my own bathroom. 20 minutes later and he’s still in there (he mustn’t make as if there’s that much to wash) and I’ve had it. I shout for him to get out and he comes out looking like I’m the one troubling him.
Then it hits me. This dude, doesn’t respect me. I’m a free couch and a stupid woman he can take advantage of. He tried the long hug the one night which I wasn’t buying. I gave him the 3 pats and release hug back. You can’t have someone in your space that doesn’t respect you or your space. We argue, I tell him he needs to get out as I can’t have someone this inconsiderate in my space. He tries to defend himself still not taking any responsibility for his fuck ups. Why though? He actually smirks when I mention the drank cognac. Eventually he sees I am not going to relent and he heads out.
Later that night I return and all of his stuff is gone and so is my adapter. So I text him and he says he’ll look to see if he has it. Bitch, you know you have it. Apparently he’s going to pop it in the post. I won’t hold my breath. I block him on everything. I’m not going to talk to him again.
And there you have the reason why I will never ever let anyone stay with me again. I can’t do it. I got a photo from a friend the next day with him at a party smiling with loads of women around him. His next victims nearly lined up? This man has balls. No seriously he sent me a photo of his penis one time. He has balls.
Apparently there is a tribe of guys who professionally coach surf off of women who will pay their way around the world. I’m not the one my precious. I work hard for what I have and there is nothing cool or admirable in men who think that they are owed something from their female friends. Hell, we weren’t even shagging.
So beware and if you get that text asking if they can stay, just say no. Save yourself the anxiety and weight gain. No wasteman is worth it. Point them to a nearby hotel.
© Chelsea Black 2015