I have occasionally toyed with the idea of letting boys sleep in my bed. I don’t mean sexually. I mean actually sleeping in my bed [and I may or may not be around at the time].
We generally seem to have guests wandering in and out of our flat. Leo for 6 months, Kurt for 2, random drunken people I bring over, pot-heads from north London, pot-heads from south London, gay boys, high girls. It varies.
Kurt asked me if he could use my room when I wasn’t home for the night. I had to refuse. I just cant do it. I just cant. I don’t even like people going into my room without permission. Yes its very dog-in-the-manger, but I can explain.
Basically, its all Leo’s fault.
When Leo sprung the idea on me that he’d be coming to stay with us for 3 months, I was terrified that M and A would freak out [I certainly did]. So I said to them,
“Listen dude, Leo wont be any trouble at all, in fact he’ll hardly take up any space. When I’m not home he can sleep in my room, and even if I am home alone he can share the bed with me. If not, he can sleep on the couch, but all his stuff will be in my room and he’ll be out of the house most of the time so you guys don’t have to panic”, I confidently asserted.
M and A had no choice but to agree [A had practically lived with us in our last flat so I didn’t see why Leo couldn’t now. Emotional blackmail is a powerful weapon]. While initially worried that they wouldn’t get along, I had completely underestimated the power of alcohol and cannabis. As Marilyn Manson once said to Liam Gallagher after a punch up, “Drugs are what brought us together man”. They got along like a house on fire.
But Leo in my bedroom……no no no no no. That did NOT work out.
Leo flies from Bombay to London, on a 9 hour flight, not counting all the traveling in-between, grime, dirt and dust on public transport. Lands at 9:30 pm and does not take a shower for the next two days.
So I yelled at him, of course. As any sensible girl with a flea ridden hobo in her bed would.
After about a month of this, which included my ex making me change the sheets religiously every time Leo slept in the bed, I just couldn’t handle the stress of so much laundry any more.
The last straw came one night when I accidentally forgot Leo was Leo and put my arm around him in the middle of the night. I immediately came to my senses in UTTER HORROR, and that was it. He was given the boot.
A strict rule was established, “No Bath = No Bed”
Which meant when Leo returned home from his all day and late night boozing sessions with various loafers all over the city, it was COMPULSORY that he take a shower before he got under my nice clean beautiful duvet.
Breaking this rule would result in some shouting and being permanently barred from my room.
Consistent rule breaking would mean getting thrown out of the flat.
And I fucking meant it.
Leo broke the rules at least three times.
I don’t know how, but without even smelling the sheets, I could always sense when he had slept in my bed without a shower.
Maybe its some psychic dirt connection. Who can say?
After some serious threats, Leo realized it was far easier to be lazy and just pass out on the couch. [where he ended up permanently for the rest of his 6 month stay].
My ex still made me wash all the sheets every time Leo slept in the bed. It was very tiring. Believe me.
So no more boys,
Unless they are clean.
Or very very cute.