My very odd relationship with the 60-year-old suitor makes me think about my diagnosis of attention deficit disorder (adult ADHD). Am I insecure, are my poor relationship choices due to low self-esteem from ADD—or do I just like old men? I joked with another friend that when we walk down the street, some passerby might mistake me for being his caretaker, or “live-in companion.” The father says my search for the “daddy” comes from a broken childhood.
The old fox certainly has put up with a lot of my crap though. I think back to the day when I arrived at the wrong airport. It didn’t just end there. I had ordered lunch at McDonald’s—iced coffee and two chicken wraps. I swiftly grabbed the iced coffee and ran through the terminal to the gate only to forget the rest of the lunch. It is funny yet scary. When I told a friend about my predicament, she said that my life sounded like a “Lifetime Special" or reality TV.
Okay, onto the roommate report...
The new roommates and I have some things in common. One is Colombian (I’ll call her Marie), a cute girl in her late 20s looking to get her masters in environmental architecture. The other is a native Southerner, “Abby,” early 30s maybe, tall and lanky like a runway model, a single mom of a little boy. The father gets the boy on weekends.
At times our conversations sound more like plotting an escape from poorism. There was the chat about the food stamps, and it started when I mentioned a journalist friend who applied for food stamps. The next thing I know, Abby applies for stamps and gets $300 a month. We are living on the rich, and drinking the poor girl's pina colada (pineapple, shards of old fruit, coconut milk, a bit of rum).
In some ways the makeshift lives we have feel liberating, because at least it is our own. It is better to work together and be together on a journey than to acquire an AARP guy.
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