Is the 'I Love You' Worth It?
"So, When Are You Gonna Move In?"
"When are you gonna move in with me?"
It's the thing I've been hoping he'd never ask me. My boyfriend Tre lives in a tiny, kind of dirty basement apartment with his friends/bandmates.
"So...?" he leans over and plops his head down on my shoulder.
"So...?" I echo him.
"Come on Lisea! We've been going out for, like, almost a year and a half. That's such a fucking long time," he looks up at me, smiling sweetly.
"Tre," I sigh, trying to figure out how to tell him I would rather live in a dumpster than in that apartment.
"Lisea," he gives me those puppy dog eyes Billie Joe taught him. "You already stay here, like, most of the time. Like, six days a week."
"I know, but-"
"But what? It wouldn't be that different from now," he sits up and cocks his head to the side.
"Are you trying to be cute?" I say.
"Why don't you want to move in with me?" he says. He looks hurt.
"It's not that I don't want to move in with YOU," I say, sighing and pointing to him. "I don't want to move into this place."
"How come?" he shoots a glance around the cramped apartment.
"Because! I really don't want to live with three, I'm sorry, stoner dudes who all use the same bar of soap- except for Billie, who steals my body wash."
"He does?" he looks at me wide-eyed.
"Tre," I say rolling my eyes. "I'm twenty-three. I don't want to live like a teenager. And you three are living like teenagers, no offense. But I want to be able to walk from my bathroom to my bedroom without having to redress after taking a shower. I want to be able to go into the front room at noon and not be afraid of waking Billie Joe."
Tre looks at me with those puppy dog eyes again.
I shake my head. "I'd rather you move in with me."
He sighs, considering this proposal. "I like living here."
"I know. That's why I think we should just keep doing what we're doing. You know, I still have my place, but I stay here too," I say running my fingers through his faded green hair.
"Yeah," he says sighing again. "I guess you're right."
I pull his face towards mine and kiss his face.
"But," he starts, but doesn't finish.
"What honey?" I say looking at him. He's obviously trying to think something through.
"Will you ever move in with me?"
I laugh.
"When you don't live here anymore, then yes I'll move in with you. I mean, it's March, right? You'll start touring this summer, so if I stay in my place, I won't have to be here all alone when you're gone."
"Yeah," he says. "But we don't go until July. It's only March. That's like two months!"
"Four, honey."
"That's like four months!"
I laugh again.
"It's only four months."
***
"Tre!" I call as I walk through the door to their basement abode.
"He's not here," Billie Joe says, covering the receiver of the phone.
"Oh, sorry," I say quietly. He goes back to talking, probably to his girlfriend Adrienne. He talks to her all the time, at least once a day, it seems. I go into Tre's bedroom to gather some clothes I'd left behind from the last couple of days. I was running out of things to wear that were clean. I scoop the clothes up and head back out to my car just as Tre's pulls in.
"HEY!" he yells out the door.
"HEY!" I yell back, giggling.
"What are you doing? Stealing stuff?" He says as he slams the car door shut.
"No, it's just my dirty clothes I've been leaving here all week. I've gotta throw them in the wash."
"Come?" he says pointing to himself.
"Yeah, I guess," I say, climbing into the passenger seat, handing him my car keys.
We drive over to my apartment, so I can toss my clothes into the wash.
"It never ceases to amaze me how clean it is in here," Tre marvels as we walk in the front door.
"Well, I'm never here. Plus," I say going to the laundry room. "It's really not that hard to pick up after yourself."
He grins at me and disappears. Great. You never know what he's getting into.
"LISEA!" he calls from my bedroom.
"Hang on!" I yell, closing the lid on the washing machine.
"OKAY!"
"What?" I say standing in the doorway to my room.
"Have we ever had sex in here?" he grins at me, laying on my bed.
"Let's go," I say turning and walking out the front door.
It's the thing I've been hoping he'd never ask me. My boyfriend Tre lives in a tiny, kind of dirty basement apartment with his friends/bandmates.
"So...?" he leans over and plops his head down on my shoulder.
"So...?" I echo him.
"Come on Lisea! We've been going out for, like, almost a year and a half. That's such a fucking long time," he looks up at me, smiling sweetly.
"Tre," I sigh, trying to figure out how to tell him I would rather live in a dumpster than in that apartment.
"Lisea," he gives me those puppy dog eyes Billie Joe taught him. "You already stay here, like, most of the time. Like, six days a week."
"I know, but-"
"But what? It wouldn't be that different from now," he sits up and cocks his head to the side.
"Are you trying to be cute?" I say.
"Why don't you want to move in with me?" he says. He looks hurt.
"It's not that I don't want to move in with YOU," I say, sighing and pointing to him. "I don't want to move into this place."
"How come?" he shoots a glance around the cramped apartment.
"Because! I really don't want to live with three, I'm sorry, stoner dudes who all use the same bar of soap- except for Billie, who steals my body wash."
"He does?" he looks at me wide-eyed.
"Tre," I say rolling my eyes. "I'm twenty-three. I don't want to live like a teenager. And you three are living like teenagers, no offense. But I want to be able to walk from my bathroom to my bedroom without having to redress after taking a shower. I want to be able to go into the front room at noon and not be afraid of waking Billie Joe."
Tre looks at me with those puppy dog eyes again.
I shake my head. "I'd rather you move in with me."
He sighs, considering this proposal. "I like living here."
"I know. That's why I think we should just keep doing what we're doing. You know, I still have my place, but I stay here too," I say running my fingers through his faded green hair.
"Yeah," he says sighing again. "I guess you're right."
I pull his face towards mine and kiss his face.
"But," he starts, but doesn't finish.
"What honey?" I say looking at him. He's obviously trying to think something through.
"Will you ever move in with me?"
I laugh.
"When you don't live here anymore, then yes I'll move in with you. I mean, it's March, right? You'll start touring this summer, so if I stay in my place, I won't have to be here all alone when you're gone."
"Yeah," he says. "But we don't go until July. It's only March. That's like two months!"
"Four, honey."
"That's like four months!"
I laugh again.
"It's only four months."
***
"Tre!" I call as I walk through the door to their basement abode.
"He's not here," Billie Joe says, covering the receiver of the phone.
"Oh, sorry," I say quietly. He goes back to talking, probably to his girlfriend Adrienne. He talks to her all the time, at least once a day, it seems. I go into Tre's bedroom to gather some clothes I'd left behind from the last couple of days. I was running out of things to wear that were clean. I scoop the clothes up and head back out to my car just as Tre's pulls in.
"HEY!" he yells out the door.
"HEY!" I yell back, giggling.
"What are you doing? Stealing stuff?" He says as he slams the car door shut.
"No, it's just my dirty clothes I've been leaving here all week. I've gotta throw them in the wash."
"Come?" he says pointing to himself.
"Yeah, I guess," I say, climbing into the passenger seat, handing him my car keys.
We drive over to my apartment, so I can toss my clothes into the wash.
"It never ceases to amaze me how clean it is in here," Tre marvels as we walk in the front door.
"Well, I'm never here. Plus," I say going to the laundry room. "It's really not that hard to pick up after yourself."
He grins at me and disappears. Great. You never know what he's getting into.
"LISEA!" he calls from my bedroom.
"Hang on!" I yell, closing the lid on the washing machine.
"OKAY!"
"What?" I say standing in the doorway to my room.
"Have we ever had sex in here?" he grins at me, laying on my bed.
"Let's go," I say turning and walking out the front door.