I was looking for a house to rent. An ad in the local paper read, “M/F to share sprawling, ranch house on an acre of land; $500 a month including utilities.” That’s just what I was looking for. I called and made an appointment to meet the owner and to look at his house.
The house was out in the boondocks, and it was no sprawling ranch house by any stretch of the imagination. Instead, it resembled one of those small motel cabins in back of a motel office that you see on a busy road.
I pulled in the driveway. “This can’t be the right place,” I thought. I checked the address, and it was the correct address. I decided to leave and started up the motor. I was about to back out of the driveway when another car pulled in. In my rearview mirror, I saw a very attractive man behind the wheel.
“What a hunk,” came from my lips, surprising me.
” I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I’m John,” he said.
“How are you?”, I asked in an almost inaudible voice. I felt hot and nervous. I didn’t expect this. “Oh, oh, what’s next?”, I asked myself.
I wanted to be glib and come out with a witty remark. Instead, I managed, “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” I couldn’t have been more mundane.
John showed me his house, or should I say his cabin. It was too small for two people. There was only one bathroom and it was very small. It had been a closet and was converted into a bathroom. The original bathroom was in the house attached to his. Someone had made two houses from one.
I ignored my one rule about house shares; never share a bathroom, especially with a man. But I seemed to ignore everything but John. I left a deposit and planned to move in the following Monday. And John was kind enough to offer to borrow a friend’s van to help me move in.
Driving home, I daydreamed about my new housemate. I was home, lying on my bed separated from John by thin sheet rock. He had just come home and was in his room. I heard his bed squeak as he laid down. I listened intently. I heard him cough. “If I’m real quiet, maybe I can hear him breathing,” I thought.
I wondered if he slept in pajamas or if that was too confining for him. Maybe he slept with the bottoms on, or maybe he slept nude. I pictured him lying on his bed nude. His magnificent body lying so close to me was too much.
I couldn’t resist him. I wanted him. I had to be with him. I was out of control with desire. I rushed to his room and into his waiting arms. We made passionate, unforgettable love and when it was over, he told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. I felt so peaceful lying next to him and at the same time felt unimaginable joy.
A car horn interrupted my thoughts. I knew I had made a mistake renting that house. Living with a man I was attracted to would be uncomfortable, and an unrequited love would send me frantically searching for a new rental. I would be hurt and temporarily homeless.
“I’ve got to get out of this,” I thought. I called John when I got home and told him that his house was too far from my job, which wasn’t a total lie.
John proved to be as considerate as he was handsome. He returned my deposit, but I was disappointed that he didn’t ask me out. Maybe I should have asked him to meet me for a drink sometime, but I didn’t want to take the chance of being rejected.
Isn’t it absurd that when a handsome man is kind and polite, because it’s so unexpected, it knocks you for a loop?