After living with two beautifully kind girls, my time had come and I needed to find a new living arrangement. The reason for this was that both of the girls had boyfriends and were seeking the next shared experience in their loving relationships. Therefore, it only seemed right for them to take the next step. Leaving me in a flustered state of panic, searching for days, if not weeks, to find a new space I could feel comfortable in and find housemates I would feel comfortable enough to trust. A few weeks went by and our vacate date was now just around the corner, I finally found the right place, a place that I could again call ‘home’.
My new home meant that sharing this house with two lovely relaxed guys seemed to be a breeze- the occasional chat as we passed each other in the living areas, a couple of drinks here and there, a TV show or two and yet, rarely anyone was ever home at the same time. Was I living in a ghost house? The house however just worked. Months flew by and I decided to change rooms. In doing so, I would be saving much more money (spending less on rent) and it meant living in a magical light-filled attic. In return it also meant that a very beautiful and bubbly architect would move into my old room. Her name is Steph. Having a girl in the house meant more fun, great chats and occassional wine.
Now for the night that I officially met Bart…
Because I was in a hurry, I never really got to say hi properly. It was more in passing – I flew down the stairs from my room and into the kitchen to get a drink where I stumbled across one of my guy housemates and his friend Bart. It was a brief encounter. “Hi!” “Hey”. As I said, it was brief. And off, out the front door I ran. A few days passed and Steph and I were having one of our ‘girl chats’ in the kitchen. This time the chat was about Bart. I told her the story of our brief encounter and how I was intrigued to find out more and maybe (hopefully) bump into him again.
A couple of weeks passed by and I found myself being presented with an opportunity. The opportunity, I at first didn’t see, until Steph pointed it out.
With Steph on the couch and I in the kitchen, I took the rubbish out. As I returned to close the front door, I saw Bart pull up in his ute. With the door quickly closing behind me, I ran back down the long corridor and jumped onto the couch to keep our conversation flowing. Bart again, fresh on my mind and mid-conversation, I mentioned to Steph that I thought the guy we had previously spoken about was out the front in his ute and that maybe he was waiting for our housemate to get home. With strong words amid a giggle, she helped encourage me to invite him in. This way he could wait inside for our housemate to get home. In the meantime, the three of us sat in the lounge room, had a few drinks and chatted randomly about many aspects of life.
The rest, I will tell you another day…