“Thank You, But No” or “Apparently We’re Not That Desperate”

As Kris and I have made our ways through the seemingly unending housing search, our criteria for an acceptable home have become increasingly vague. We have become willing to travel farther. We have become willing to live smaller. We have accepted the possibility of having to buy major appliances as well as furniture. Each week of sleeping on a couch has driven standards back to “available” and “not scary.”

As the likelihood of finding a place pushed from October 1^st to October 15^th to November 1^st, we added short-term sublets to our search. Crazy expensive residency hotels. Roommate advertisements. Our only available option at the moment is to buy an air mattress as sleep on the living room floor of a woman we have met once and emailed twice. Since moving from a couch in the city to a floor outside of town felt like a demotion, we hoped we could do better.

And then the email came.

We had responded to as advertisement for a flatmate for a two-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t near the university, but at least it was a real bed. We explained that, even though the advertisement was for an individual, as a couple we don’t require much space and are quite neat.

The response, in extremely poor English, explained that he was looking for a single woman to come live that he could spend some time with, so he was not willing to accept a couple. Then, between the end of that sentence and the start of the next, he had a change of heart. Actually, he explained, now that he thinks about it he might be interested. We could come, he told Kris, “if we could have fun together with your wife.” He went on to explain that, back when he was married, he and his wife had had fun with other people and that he had enjoyed that very much. If we weren’t interested in that arrangement, no big deal. Don’t worry about it, he said. Just let him know.

After some silence followed by hysterical laughter and a heebie-jeebie dance around the living room, Kris and I decided not to respond. Compulsory threesomes with an unknown housemate, we agreed, was an unacceptable compromise. Considering that the entire interaction had happened via the internet, it was more creepy than a compliment. At least the last time we were approached by swingers, they had bothered with an awkward conversation at a Borders bookstore first.

While we may be able to do better, we can certainly do worse. Tomorrow, I am buying an air mattress.