Dude, put some freaking pants on

It's gone too far this time. Allow me to explain.

I do not live alone. I rent a room out of a nice lady's condo. It's not big, but at least it's far from campus. She's in her late 30's and she's Italian, but she's been in America for quite a while. She was married but is now divorced, and when I met her she was dating her ex-husband again. After she remembered what a douchebag he is and dumped him, she dated a couple random dudes but never for very long.

That's when she met him. I can only imagine it was at a bar or a club, because that's where she goes looking. Let me begin by saying he's an incredibly nice guy and he's never done me a bit of harm. We're not really friends but I'm not friends with most people. We're friendly towards each other, is a good way to describe our interactions. Henceforth, he shall be referred to only as Boyfriend.

Anyway, now that the disclaimer is out of the way, I can point out how ridiculous the whole situation is. It basically boils down to 2 things; 1) he's Brazilian so he doesn't speak English very well, and 2) he's waaaaaaaaaaay younger than her. She totally goes for the spicy foreign types... most of the dudes she dated after hubby were like totally ripped latin men. He's no different; he's clearly in good shape and apparently he's a really good soccer player (really? a Brazilian who's good at soccer? no shit!). I mentioned that he was way younger than her... I'm not a very good judge of age, but I had him pegged at like 29. He looked pretty darn young, so I figured he couldn't be very much older than I was. She's around 38. So yes, I know it's a terrible stereotype to apply to someone, but he is totally a spicy foreign boytoy. There's just no other way to look at it. They're both nice people, but this is totally a cougar-poolboy situation.

Anyway, before long he's over all the time. Now, he's a nice guy, but between the language barrier and the fact that they are trying to kiss and snuggle every freaking second of the day, my interactions with him were awkward at best. I tend to have a late schedule, and when I would come home at like 9 or 10pm they would be on the couch snuggling watching TV. Every day. Our living room isn't really big enough that you can do two things in it at the same time, especially if one of them is watch TV, and especially if the people watching TV really want to be left alone right now. It got to the point that I would walk in the front door, say hi, go up to my room and stay there til they went to bed.

This wasn't a big deal because she worked normal hours so she couldn't stay up late most nights. So I had the downstairs to myself after about 10. I'm a nightowl anyway, so this suited me fine.

Then she lost her job. She works in marketing, and her company downsized. Thus beginneth the long long long period of idleness in which she sleeps in every day and stays up late every night. So, she essentially adopted exactly my schedule. This means that there's NO time of day when she's not in the house and I am, and there's NO time of day when she's asleep and I'm not. I essentially had no alone time in my own house anymore, which is something I need. I need to be around people, but I also NEED MY ALONE TIME. I could only be alone in my room, which gets really old after a while.

Meanwhile, Boyfriend gets a job as a delivery boy. The boytoy actually gets a job with the word 'boy' in it. The irony is not lost on me. But the life of a delivery boy is not too demanding, so his presence at my house is not diminished in any significant degree. So now they're both free all day, presumably screwing constantly, and staying up until 2am when they retire to their bedroom to screw loudly to cap off a long day of screwing.

So, fine. They're enjoying themselves, she's unemployed, and very half-assedly looking for work. I'm not a fan of hearing loud screwing all the time, but at least they're not rubbing it in my face. Then our house's dress code got more casual. I didn't receive the memo, but apparently we implemented a 'shirt-optional' policy. And it only applied to Boyfriend. Not that I particularly want to walk around with my shirt off, but I didn't because it's really douche-baggy to regularly expose the people around you to your own partial nudity. It's douchebaggy either way; if you're ripped then you're clearly showing off, and if you're not then nobody wants to see your pale nasty body. So I would come home sometimes and they would be on the couch, and he'd be shirtless.

This just started happening, out of the blue. When you walk into a room and two people are on a couch snuggling and one is shirtless, you've walked into a situation where you're not especially welcome. It doesn't even matter which person is shirtless. I'm pretty sure the first time this happened I didn't do more than a triple-take. I played it off as if it was nothing. Because I didn't know what else to do, and my default reaction is tolerance. That may have been my biggest mistake, because it set precedent. More and more often, I'd find Boyfriend shirtless in my house. My comfort level at home is skyrocketing.

Though she was unemployed, that didn't stop my housemate from taking a trip to Italy. I think she had planned it before she lost her job, and the tickets were non-refundable. It kinda made sense. Anyway, she went and didn't take him along. I was in charge of the dog, which is always much more annoying than I think it will be. Here's the fun part that I found out after she left. Boyfriend is going to help take care of the dog, and so she gave him a key to the house. You cannot understand how creepy it was to come home one day and FIND HIM ALL ALONE IN MY FUCKING HOUSE, FUCKING SHIRTLESS AND FUCKING WATCHING THE FUCKING TV!!!

Again, I played it off like it was nothing, but I was really weirded out for a second. But since she wasn't there, I got a lovely opportunity to talk to him all by myself. Oh goodie. We sat around watching TV for a coupla minutes, making small talk. He knew I went to school and started asking me about it. I tried my best to describe what I do to a layman who doesn't speak English very well. I told him I'd been in college for like 8 years or something, and got the appropriate 'wow'. Little did I know, this would soon lead to awesomeness.

After I mentioned the 8 years in college, he asked me how old I was. I think I was probably 26 at the time, and said so. Then I realized that this was my opportunity to see exactly how much of a cradle-robber my housemate was, so I asked him back. "Oh me? I'm 22." Twenty-fucking-two!!!! HE WAS 4 YEARS YOUNGER THAN ME!!! I had a really really really hard time not laughing or smiling or acting shocked. Maybe I'm a bastard, but I just thought this was the greatest news ever. It just made the situation so much more cheap and tawdry. Frankly, it was delicious.

We're getting near the end of the story, but there's 2 more important points to make. My housemate took another vacation to Italy (in which she again gave Boyfriend a key). She got back late at night so I didn't see her the night she got back. But I saw her the next day, as I'm leaving for school. She had a great trip, and oh Mike thanks for walking Austin, and it's so good to be home, and so good to see Boyfriend again, and they had a nice romantic evening last night, and they were so happy to see each other again and Boyfriend got a bit overwhelmed and proposed and NOW WE'RE ENGAGED!!!!!!

Whoa. I don't care what anyone says, it takes stones to propose to a divorcee who's 16 years older than you. Stones, or a complete lack of sense. The two are not mutually exclusive.

Anyway, not much has changed since the engagement. He wants to finish school before they get married, so it's kind of a long-term engagement. Things went back to the old status quo.

Until TONIGHT. This prompted the blog post, and explains the title. Maybe you can guess what happened. It's not much of a stretch, given the rest of this story.

I come home tonight, they're in the living room, kinda look like they're about to go upstairs. I see Boyfriend wearing a t-shirt and absolutely no evidence of pants. He acted pretty casual about it (well why not, he's a casual guy, right?) so I am guessing he at least had something covering his twig-n-berries. But it did not protrude down below his shirt. That's not a good look for a man, just on general principles.

If we ever get to a situation where it's speedo only, I might have to say something.