Star Wars, Cookie Dough and California

So, I talked a little bit about my past relationships and a little about my present. It’s only fair that now that I’ve decided to quit searching for love, several love interests would fall into my lap.

But first, let’s talk about non-romantic relationships in my life, starting with my roommates: Megan and Lana. When they first moved in, well really when I first met them I was extremely apprehensive because within 30 minutes of meeting them they told me all about all of their health problems (just like elderly people do when you engage in conversation with them, except they’re 20 years old). But, I was desperate for roommates and so they signed the lease.


In the last week or so of living with them (before classes start after winter break), we’ve had a lot of time to bond and veg out together–mostly binge watching New Girl and playing with Megan’s fryer.


So far, the only thing that unsettles me about them is that they are very, very slow about unpacking all of their things. In fact, I unpacked everything in the living room because I couldn’t stand it anymore. But their rooms are still very very full of unpacked clutter.

But that’s a very small con compared to how I’ve felt about roommates in the past, and some of the problem might be my tendency to spend my free time in my room with the door shut, and not talk to my roommates. Typically, I like to keep to myself and not socialize but we moved my TV out of my room and into the living room with my new smart player, which has gotten me out of my room and into the shared living room.

The next cool and different thing about these roommates is that they’re considerably more geeky than all of the other roommate I’ve had. Megan is very short (possibly part Hobbit) with red hair and porcelain skin and black, thick rimmed glasses. She likes to dress in conflicting patterns and sweats. Megan enjoys Star Wars, Game of Thrones, and Kingdom hearts. She has a man-friend who has been named Captain ‘Stache. She is also an exceptional baker and lets Lana and me lick the beaters.

Lana is my height, with a blonde pixie cut and black, square rimmed glasses. She typically dresses in tank tops, colored skinny jeans and chunky jewelry. She is essentially the owner of a small, reptilian petting zoo (12 Geckos and Counting would be the name of her show on TLC) and a tiny poodle named Suzi. She loves Star Wars, hates Harry Potter, and plays Kingdom Hearts religiously with Megan.

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While sifting through recipes in hopes of cutting down on groceries if we all ate together, I discovered my roommates have the palates of ten-year-olds and only eat french fries, ice cream, pasta (with red sauce on the side only), Zesta crackers, ovaltine and root beer. Sometimes gatorade, NEVER coffee. You can imagine my disappointment considering I’m a big fan of pretty much everything, and love to cook. Ah, well.

Nala, the cat in all the photos, is mesmerized by the geckos and will not leave her front row spot watching them for any reason other than eating and using the litter box.

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But enough about my roommates, geckos and my cat. Tonight we are watching Star Wars, eating cookie dough that Meg made and ticking down the minutes until classes start up again. I am thinking about the love interests that have so conveniently fell into my lap just as I’ve decided to quit searching.

Jefferson (not the president risen from the dead) the sweet, cute camo-clad soldier with a clean apartment, high sex drive (I know because I’ve forcefully said “No,” on more than one occasion), and jaded attitude about women.

Caesar (not the dog whisperer on that crack-pot tv show) the sexy, divorced, opera singer who loves cats and Meg Ryan movies (which I’m not entirely sure I believe).

Patrick (yes, previously mentioned Patrick) the once-secret friend who hates crowds, looks like Daniel Radcliffe, and has always been there for me but can never quite go “all in.” Those blue eyes and dark hair though…

The Californian (but not really an interest, really more of a fantasy) who I had a delectable fling with over the Christmas holiday, loves taking me to music shows, has a nervous-awkward sense of humor, and is working on his own film in Hollywood while I write this in negative-temperatures-Missouri.

My dilemma: How do I tell them all I’m not on the market for another 348 days (possibly longer)? To be fair, I met them all before this all started. My honest reaction to this? Let every single one play itself out and come to it’s untimely end just like the rest of the guys on my ever moving “conveyor belt of men.”

More updates to come. May the force be with you all.


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