The Vine: August 20, 2004
Sars,
After many many years, I’m finally getting to a place in my life I’m happy with. I’m enjoying being single again, enjoying not needing a roommate and/or a bad boyfriend to help keep the lights on. I’ve found an affordable place very close to work, my two cats seem to like it, the job is great and there are opportunities on the horizon…but.
I have had a string of bad relationships, and even worse breakups. And now, being around young people as much as I am, and living in this new place with all the young singles wandering up to the bar on the corner, I would really like to have sex. I really don’t want a relationship with anyone. I’m kind of being selfish about that, but it’s good. I have a lot of things I would like to focus on concerning myself, and I seem to end up being the “bender” in every relationship. I don’t want to change, I just would like someone else there, you know what I’m saying?
Too add to my dilemma, I’ve found that the closer and closer I come to 30 (I’m 28 now), the less and less confidence I have in myself. I used to be able to pick someone up, so to speak, but now, it seriously petrifies me. My younger girlfriends at work have offered to take me out to try to meet someone, but all I can think is, my friends are all young, pretty, blah blah inadequacy-cakes. I have an old fuck buddy, but it’s been almost five years since we’ve hooked up — I have no idea what he’s up to.
I’ve thought about going down to that corner bar, and see if anyone bites, but I’m not really a drinker, and then there’s that “now he knows where I live” thing going on. I’ve thought about an internet thing, like Yahoo personals or something like that, but what the hell would I say about myself? “Hi, I just would like to have sex”?
Also, I’m wondering why I think I need sex as much as I do. I seem to think about it a little too much, much more often then I used to. I’ve been through dry spells, for lack of a better phrase, before, but for some reason, this one is all about the physicality/human contact aspect of sex, not necessarily missing intimacy.
Have I just been watching too many Sex & the City reruns? Or is this really my body reminding me tick-tock, Clarice? Do everyday people do that? And if yes, how?
Thanks,
And I Used To Wish So Hard I’d Be Able To Not Need A Boyfriend!
Dear Used,
You want to have unattached sex, but you don’t want to do any of the things that might lead to that; I don’t know what you want me to tell you in terms of pulling that off. It’s a fairly tricky proposition anyway, and you really can’t be afraid to make yourself plainly known in that regard — to go on dates and see where they lead, and to say in so many words, “I’m not looking for anything serious.” Otherwise, it’s not going to work. I think you’re conflicted about this desire, and I think you don’t believe you can “get away with” doing it, which also isn’t going to work.
If this is what you want, go get it; go pick someone up, fuck him, show him the door at 2 AM, and feel good about it. Nothing wrong with it, God knows. But you have to commit to the plan, and if you’re thinking, “I’m not really the kind of person who Does This,” it’s going to queer the deal.
As far as increased desire goes, I believe that’s normal for women as we get older. I’m much more attuned to that aspect of life than I was at 21; I think it’s a hormonal thing, but for me, it’s at least partly because I feel much more at home with and in myself than I did ten years ago.
For now, enjoy your right hand, do a shitload of flirting, see what happens, and don’t worry about it. This isn’t abnormal at all.
Dear Sars,
I live in a flat in the Richmond district of San Francisco with the owner of the flat. When I moved in to the apartment, we agreed that the front part of the house (not including his bedroom, just the front “parlor”) would be a common area, as would the back half of the house (not including my bedroom, just an additional bedroom used as another living room). As soon as I moved in, however, he blocked off the front half of the house with a screen, stating that he needed this space to be private.
I thought this was a crappy deal, changing the terms of the agreement (which I have in writing) after my move-in and without consulting me, and proposed that in that case, we make the back room my private space, to balance out the arrangement.
He freaked and said the he’s the landlord, and no one is going to tell him how to use the space in his house. He stated that the situation was non-negotiable. As opposed to fighting things out, I opted to move and gave him 30 days notice (per our month-to-month lease agreement) on 15th, stating that I would pay rent up to the 15th of next month, though I would vacate on the 1st. I also accepted responsibility for all utilities for which I am responsible up to the 15th of next month, as I should.
Today, three FREAKIN’ days before I move out, he sent me an email telling me that, due to damage, I need to pay him an additional $150 (I did not give him a security deposit). The damage? Three inches of chipped paint on the molding in my bedroom, and an area where the carpet on the stairs parts from the wall that he says my cat is responsible for. Note: He’s the guardian of a rambunctious black lab. I mean, it’s totally possible that Sniffy did in the carpet, but there are other creatures attacking the stairs, as well as the normal wear-and-tear of the front stairway. Or am I just making excuses? Maybe.
I call the SF Rent Board as well as SF Tenant Advocacy, and they tell me that I could have fought him for the changes to the agreement he made without my permission, citing a “decrease in services” that could have entitled me to a retroactive rent decrease, were I remaining in the apartment. Additionally, they both cited to me an ordinance that states that if a landlord seeks damages above and beyond a security deposit, he/she should do a walk-through with the tenant ten days before the date of departure, to give the tenent time to make any necessary repairs.
In short, they both say that he should consider himself lucky I didn’t file suit, and that if he pushed the damage issue, I should take him to Rent Court, where they’ll decide in my favor and the court will take the damage out of my “winnings” (I don’t get any money, here, just reduced rent if I were still in the apartment, or it’ll be applied to the damages if I’m out, which I so will be).
So, (finally) here’s my question: Do I pay him the $150? I don’t want to, because I feel like he’s being an asshole, but not all asshole behavior is a crime. The Rent Board and Tenant Advocacy both advised me not to pay, and to cite the ordinances I referenced above. Friends have recommended that I avoid him for the rest of the week, then hand him a letter explaining why I won’t pay the additional amount and citing the specific ordinances as I move out on Saturday, but that seems skanky, to just hand off the note (I would be leaving something, as I still have to pay him two weeks’ rent, so it’s not like an envelope would be a total shock, in and of itself).
I understand the rules at play here, but am so angry that he’s pulling what seems like punitive shit that I don’t know if I’m capable of making a rational decision. I’d appreciate any feedback y’all can offer on the situation, both as a renter in a similar market to SF as well as a supremely rational being. To sum, I’d appreciate advice on whether or not to engage him on this matter, what form and when should I engage, or if I should just suck it up and pay the $150.
Thanks very much for listening,
Can’t escape that passive-aggressive asshole soon enough
Dear Can’t,
Oh, because he hasn’t acted skanky, and shady, and every other synonym for bad news? Whatever. As you walk out the door, hand him the envelope, tell him you won’t pay the damages, end of story. If he wants the $150, he can come and get it.
I imagine that he probably won’t. Once you get out of his physical range, it’ll be too hard for him to treat you like Country Mouse and try to extort money from you, so I imagine he won’t bother, but if he does, just refer him to Rent Court and tell him to suck it. And while you’re up, file ceaseless, detailed complaints with whatever council in San Fran handles these things and put a burn on him on behalf of other prospective tenants.
The guy’s a dick; he’s counting on you just wanting to get out of the situation to get money he’s not owed. Don’t let him get away with it.
Dear Sars,
I’m a long-time admirer and reader who never thought I would write to you. However, I am terribly confused and I am hoping you might be able to offer some insight. It’s a long story, so bear with me.
Once upon a time, I, part-time grad student and overall bohemian, was dating a nice, conservative lawyer who took me to a very fancy lawyer banquet. The gentleman on my right and I took one look at each other and, despite my boyfriend and his girlfriend, we immediately sneaked away and had sex. The sexual connection was strong and instant. He asked for and received my phone number and soon we were having a passionate affair, seeing each other about once to twice a month, always at my place, since he lived with his girlfriend.
The sex was amazing, and the conversations equally wonderful, and we genuinely liked and respected one another. We explored sexual things that our partners didn’t enjoy and confessed and acted out fantasies. We never really felt that this was cheating, because neither was interested in anything more than these occasional meetings. This continued for almost three years, during which he got more serious with his girlfriend, discussing marriage and such, and I broke up and hooked up with a series of guys, one of them actually a colleague of his.
But, for the last few months, I realize in retrospect, things became more personal. Gifts were exchanged and the frequency of meetings increased. We didn’t understand this at the time. Then came the Disaster: one day, lying around cuddling and listening to music after a very satisfying bout of slightly kinky sex, there was something that might be described as an explosion or shift in the space/time continuum. Suddenly we looked at each other and were madly in love. “I love you”s were exchanged, and we made love for the first time.
We have had a few stolen moments since then, this was a few weeks ago, and lots of whispered phone conversations, but we are both travelling at present so we can’t see or spend time with each other. He says that he can’t imagine life without me and he loves me more than he has ever loved a woman and I feel the same way. I’m so totally hopelessly in love with him, like most controlled and reserved people, I fall hard when I fall.
Naturally, given the illicit nature of our relationship, there are plenty of problems. I have a boyfriend, whom I like and respect and should be given an explanation, and he has his live-in girlfriend. They own their apartment together, which is complicated. I really hate the idea of inflicting pain on these lovely people, especially her, they have been a couple for five years and were planing to get engaged this summer, something he has postponed after the Disaster. I was dumped by my then fiancée, many years ago, for another woman and still vividly remember the humiliation and pain, and really don’t want to be a part of causing such feelings.
Now, I am not stupid, I’m not counting on him to leave her, I know people say things and give promises that prove to be meaningless. I’m terribly confused and scared but so jubilantly happy. I don’t know what to do, should I encourage him to leave or tell him to forget me? If (big if) we get together, what do we tell people when they ask how we met? No one knows that we know each other. How would I fit in in his conservative, goal-oriented environment with my left-wing views and stretches of unemployment? Is this only a midlife crisis on his part or an excuse to not propose to his girlfriend? Am I seriously delusional? Are we both nuts? Is this something that will pass and we should just wait it out?
These are only a few of the questions spinning in my head and believe me, I’m not asking you to answer all of them, I just need some kind of outside take on this mess, and since it is and has been a well-kept secret, I turn to you.
Sincerely yours,
Scarlet Woman
Dear Scarlet,
Girl. Please.
It’s gone on for three years. He’s cheated on his live-in girlfriend for three years; you in turn have cheated on various people, and put your actual romantic life on hold, for three years. Instead of actually committing to someone — him, anyone else — you continue sleeping with Mr. Ambivalent and patting yourself on the back for not settling for vanilla sex, because that doesn’t fit in with your “bohemian” image of yourself.
Get a grip, lady. Seriously. If you liked and respected your boyfriend, you wouldn’t have fucked another guy repeatedly and kept it a secret. If your endless fling loved you, or anyone besides himself, he wouldn’t keep you as a side dish while screwing over the incumbent. The whole situation is a soap opera, and I think that’s what you like about it; I don’t believe for a second that, if he left his girlfriend and tried to start a real relationship with you, you’d stick around for more than a week or two, because where’s the drama in actually trying to work things out like an adult?
Everyone makes mistakes, but this is not “a mistake,” not after three years. This is a willful disregard for the feelings of others because doing what you want is much easier. You can dress it up any way you want to, but that’s what it is. The guy isn’t going to leave the girlfriend; if he did, you’d get bored in five minutes. Dump the current boyfriend and the fuck-buddy, get therapy, and figure out why you would conduct your emotional life this way, because it isn’t just hurting other people; it’s selling you short too.
Dear Sars,
I’ve enjoyed reading The Vine for the past few years. I never thought that I would have a problem that would lead me to consult an advice column, but here goes.
This month, I will be starting my junior year of college. I have a close, small group of friends and we decided to be “neighbors” in the dorm for our sophomore year. Most of my friends receive a complete full ride to our over- priced college. I do not. When the new class of scholarship students arrives at school, the upperclassmen scholarship students try to help the freshmen adjust to college.
This is how I met Hayley (not her real name). She hung out with us on one of the first few nights of the school year. She was very quiet and seemed quite homesick, and since she was all the way from Oregon, I didn’t blame her. She didn’t say much, but I assumed she was just a little overwhelmed by everything. After that first night, she started to hang out with some other freshmen that also receive the scholarship. We said “Hi,” when we saw each other around, but that was the extent of the relationship.
One night, around October, we saw Hayley eating dinner in the dining hall alone. We invited her to sit with us and she accepted. She opened up quite a bit, telling us that she never really liked those other girls and that they just used her for her car. We felt bad, of course, so we told her she could eat with us any time she wants.
As the friendship progressed, we all noticed that Hayley ate weird. She would pile up her plate with huge mounds of broccoli and cauliflower. She would pour herself a cup of soup, mush her crackers in it, and swirl her spoon around it a couple times. Basically, the only thing we saw her eat was broccoli and cauliflower. She was pretty thin, and about 5’7″, but her wardrobe of baggy sweatshirts and sweatpants concealed a lot. In retrospective, I worried about her, but only in passing. I figured she was just really picky or something.
The end of the semester approached and as one of my friends was going abroad in the spring, we wanted to decide on housing arrangements for the 2004-2005 school year. Our school has these apartments, called The Circles, that used to be off-campus housing but were recently purchased by the school. They are technically on-campus, but you really need to drive down to campus to get to the main academic areas. We wanted to live in these apartments, but we needed one extra person so we could get a six-person townhouse. So, we decided that we should ask Hayley to live with us. She was nice, studious, and quiet. We asked and she accepted. I remember thinking that she looked very happy that we asked her.
Christmas break came and went, and when we returned to school, Hayley looked terrible. There was virtually no fat on her face, and although the winters in upstate New York can be unforgiving, she wore an unnatural amount of layers. She walked extremely slow, as if every step required energy that she simply did not have. She would have hot flashes and push up her sweatshirt sleeves. The veins on her arms poked out like something I have ever seen before. Her appearance confirmed that she had an eating disorder, but we were all too afraid to talk to her about it. I had known her as a friend for only three months. It’s not like we were close or anything. We ate dinner together. I wanted to know what was going on, but I didn’t know how to ask.
We were walking to dinner one night, and she asked us if we would take the shortcut with her. Our school has a lot of stairs, but there is a way you can take to avoid them. It’s out of the way, but it’s inside, so in the winter, it’s popular. So, we took the elevator with her. It was in the elevator that first night back that Hayley just broke down. She started crying, making these comments under her breath. “It’s not good to lose 25 pounds in one semester,” she said. We listened to everything she told us, but didn’t press her for anything more.
Soon thereafter, my friend Lauren was talking to Hayley on AIM. Hayley told Lauren that she has been struggling with anorexia since she was in seventh grade. She once stayed in a hospital and was fed through an IV. Her parents want her to go to a live-in treatment center, but she said she wasn’t ready. She was adamant about remaining at school, she kept saying if she gave up now she would never be able to handle life on her own, without her parents. She wanted to wait to go to a live-in treatment center until a year from then. She came to school weighing 110 pounds. She probably weighed about 75 pounds at that point. I have never seen anything like it.
Hayley was very clingy. She wanted to come to our rooms to study, all the time. She wouldn’t ever go to the dining halls on her own, not even for lunch. It soon got to be too much. Hayley and her eating disorder were taking over my life. Even just a night in watching American Idol wasn’t fun. Nothing was fun when Hayley was in the room. She also didn’t seem to be enjoying herself with us. It was as if she didn’t really like us. She acted like she was only hanging out with us because she needed to be around people and we were the only ones that would have her.
We went to the school counseling center (without Hayley) to talk to someone and see what we could do. I wanted to help, but it seemed like nothing I could do would make a difference. I was (and am) so angry. I felt like Hayley was manipulating us, she knew that as decent human beings we wouldn’t just ditch her. But she knew and reveled in the fact that she was making us miserable. I felt bad for her, and wanted to see her get better, but I was so frustrated.
So then we had to turn in our application for the apartment. We sat down with her and tried to explain that we didn’t think living in the Circles was the best option for her. She broke down and cried, being all, “So you don’t want to live with me?” And we chickened out. So she was officially signed up to live with us for the 2004-2005 school year.
As the semester went on, I tried my best to distance myself from the situation. I wasn’t very nice to Hayley. I would avoid situations where she would be present. I was going crazy and I was so unhappy. While I still practically obsessed over the situation, I realized that I needed to look out for my own mental health before anyone else’s. I never had fun anymore. Imagine studying your ass off all week and then being even more stressed out when you try to relax on the weekends. My life at school was miserable. I left for summer needing that vacation more than anything, ever.
Shortly after school ended, I was on AIM, obsessively checking profiles. In Hayley’s profile, she had written, “I have a LiveJournal but I’m too afraid to post the link.” Being nosy, I wondered if her LJ username was the same as her AIM username. And it was. I never realized just how messed up she really was until I read her journal. The venom with which she attacked her parents was astounding. And, soon enough, she attacked me and my friends too.
My friends and I decided that we had to do something about the living arrangements. I, for one, was totally uncomfortable with sharing living space with someone who hated me so much. My friend Kelly contacted the school and they told her the only way to remove Hayley from the apartment was if we asked her to move and she said yes. We didn’t really know how to do this, so we wrote her a letter, asking her to move out. I also included a letter from my own perspective, explaining my feelings and urging her to seek help. We also wrote a letter explaining the whole situation to her parents. I don’t know if this was the best way to do it, but I know that I absolutely could not mentally survive another semester like the last one. Lauren mailed the letters on Monday, July 19, asking Hayley to let us know what her decision would be ASAP.
As I type, it is three weeks later and we haven’t heard anything from Hayley. She was online just a few hours ago, but I chickened out. We don’t know what to do next. I know this is a no-win situation, but something has to be done. Should someone call her? Call her parents? Have one of our parents call her parents? Did we make a mistake? Am I being too selfish?
I realize that I’ve gone on way too long and that this will probably never make it to the web, but getting it all out helped. I’d appreciate your take on this whole messed up situation.
Guilty and Confused
Dear Guilty,
Given the situation, I think you did the best you could — yeah, you probably shouldn’t have asked her to live with you in the first place if you only did it 1) out of guilt or 2) to fill the spot, but at least you saw that you needed to get out of it.
Yes, one of you needs to call her, or her parents, and I think you should go with “her parents” here, because if they don’t already know how badly she needs help — and that that’s why you can’t have her live with you — they should. Don’t make it about her hating you guys (which she doesn’t, really; she’s just so depressed and twisted up in her mind that she can’t relate to anyone properly at the moment). Make it about her health, which is both mentally and physically precarious, and tell her parents, “Look, you-all can handle this as a family however you see fit, but she’s way past what we as laypeople can deal with,” and get them to cough up the letter.
I know you feel hard-hearted, but…don’t. You can’t live like that, and more importantly, neither can Hayley. She needs in-patient treatment of some kind. It’s an ugly situation, and whoever loses the coin toss and has to call Hayley’s house is going to hate life for a few days, but you have to do it, or it will only get uglier, for all of you. Hayley is a way bigger problem than you should try to manage. Call her parents, keep the school administration posted on what you’re doing, and get out of this.
Dear Sars,
I’m a huge fan of The Vine, and now I find myself in need of some sensible, blunt advice.
A Friend of mine is turning 21 in a few weeks, and has decided to hire a few houseboats and go cruising for a long weekend. We’ve been friends for a long time (since we were eight), but recently we’ve drifted apart: I never hear from her, except when (her words) “everyone else is busy.”
But that’s not really the problem. No, the problem is the thirty-six other people Friend has invited to come along. See, thing is, when these people get together, I always feel very inferior, and they do nothing to help this situation. It’s kinda like being back in high school, with the popular kids (them) and the losers (me). They all know each other really well, they’re all nicely paired up and ready to marry, et cetera.
Now me, I’m single and happy. But I either get pity for my “situation” or a shrug in a “well, what did we expect” sort of way.
So, how can I possibly get out of what is going to be a hellish weekend? I know from experience that when I’m around these people, I usually end up very upset, despite my determination not to let them get to me. I know Friend would be angry if I didn’t go, but mostly because someone had said no to her than because she’d miss me. Added to which, in Australia, turning 21 doesn’t really mean anything. Here, you can vote, drink, buy cigarettes and everything else at the age of 18, so that’s a much bigger birthday.
Is there any way this can be settled so no one ends up hurt or angry?
Ms. To Boat or Not to Boat
Dear Not To,
Not really. But who cares? Your Friend is a shitheel if she calls you only when everyone else has plans, and tells you that — why do you give a crap whether she’s hurt that you don’t come to her cast-of-thousands tacky-ass houseboat birthday party?
Tell her you can’t make it, don’t explain why, and if she gets mad, tell her to stow it sideways and be glad she’s pissed off so you don’t have to put up with her anymore. But do not go on the boat. You won’t have fun, you don’t like these people — life is too short.
[8/20/04]
Tags: boys (and girls) etiquette friendships health and beauty roommates sex workplace
