Sheet of Paper

What should have followed was a quiet, respectful disagreement that ended in me moving out as part of the deal and us never speaking to each other again. Well, maybe a nod of acknowledgment of the other's existence should we cross paths. And since the gay community here is pretty small, it was bound to happen. Yes. That's how it should have gone...at least to me. Maybe he had a difference of opinion.

Anyway, the weeks passed. I worked and spent time with the boyfriend and friends. I was hardly ever at the house and when I was, I would just stay up in my room to avoid having to awkwardly not talk to the guy. I may no longer respect him but I had no intent of causing a scene or of even having a reason to talk to him. I would simply come and go and make sure that I didn't make too much noise or cause a problem.

Now, I realize this is my side of the argument. I'm sure there was his. I realize I'm deliberately not seeing his point of view to make myself the victim and he the aggressor. And I'm totally fine with that.

He can go and fuck himself for all I care.

It was at the end of June that everything went to hell. At the time I was looking around on the Internet for job postings in my area. I was feeling pumped and excited about the future. I felt I was going to get my life on track again and just go from there. I had just been typing away when I happened to glance over at the door. Perhaps I heard the noise of evil being done or perhaps it was just me turning my head as I do (as anyone does). But there was a single sheet of paper on the ground that was definitely out of place.

I reached over to grab it and read it over. Even now as I recall what was written, my thoughts go numb. I still have that single sheet of paper with me. It was so hurtful and so painful that I decided to keep it with me forever as a reminder of this moment in my life. I don't ever want to forget this. Not for revenge but to help me leave that part of my life behind forever.

I was being evicted.

That word haunted me for a long time after that day. It read that the people that lived at the house (including the owner) felt physically and emotionally intimidated by me. That I was an unsanitary (because I wasn't anal about cleaning the bathroom every day like the third roommate). Therefore, I was deemed too unsavory and therefore this annulled the contract and I had 36 hours to vacate the premise or the police would be called.

I was horrified at this and hurt. This had never happened to me before. So I walked around outside and called up the boyfriend to tell him what had happened. I was upset and devastated. Hell, I was in shock at this. The boyfriend came over a couple of hours later. He told me that he was in the mindset that I would need saving from this awful situation. He knew he'd find me in my room crying and unable to do anything.

But that was not the case.

I was nearly done packing by the time he was done. Had he of not shown up when he did, I would have just moved everything down stairs and then to my car to drive over to a friend's place to temporarily store while I searched for a new place to live.

The whole time we moved my stuff out, the other two roommates avoided me and tried to act like nothing was going on. If by acting like nothing was going on involved the third roommate hiding his head underneath a blanket...then yes. Nothing was going on. My boyfriend was angry when the owner tried to talk to him as though nothing was going on. Seriously. Why would anyone even say anything to what had clearly become two groups on opposite sides now? There was nothing courteous left to say at that point. Only very colorful descriptions of where he and his pseudo-lover - I'm sorry, the other roommate could go. Thankfully, the boyfriend ignored him.

That was the end of it. I saw the guy once at a party that the friend I was staying with threw. After that, I never saw the owner as well as the other roommate again.

But there was a moment about six months ago when I had a chance to get revenge on the owner. The owner had requested to follow me on Twitter (I only have an account to follow my lesbian "wife"). I could have used that opportunity to say so much to him. I know I could have. But that was six months ago. I had finally gotten to the point where the owner no longer meant anything in my life.

The only thing that guy means in my life is a single sheet of paper. What little friendship we had had prior to that was forever wiped away with that white paper with the crisp, typed letters on it. Once I wished success and happiness upon him. Now I could care less if he is alive or dead.

That's it. He is a horrible thing. That's it. That's all that can and should be written about this individual.