If you follow me on The Twitter ©Betty White then you know that periodically I espouse random, but totally necessary reasons to have a live-in boyfriend. I have never had a live-in before as I enjoy not having to talk to people, sleeping in the middle of my bed, and drinking in the morning, but I imagine that these are the reasons why people move in together. But apparently some people move in with people ‘cause they, like, love them and stuff? Or because they actually want to? It’s super weird. I dunno about all that but I do know about not wanting to get up at 7am on the Saturdays I don’t work just to walk Honey. That is some bullshit.
Some of my male followers have given me some flak for my (totally valid and reasonable) motivations to want a live-in, but um… so? If you aren’t doing these things, then what is the point of my sharing my space with you? If I just wanted company, that’s why I have a dog.
I haven’t done a list in a good long while, and y’all know I love them. So here is…
1. Anything that has to do with my car.
Anyone that knows me knows that I LOVE cars. Love them. I get this love of cars from my daddy who used to quiz me on the year, make, and model of each car on the road according to their body style and specific modifications (for instance when Ford bought Jaguar in 1989, the body style of the XF started to look quite a bit like the soon-to-be-discontinued Ford Contour, and continued to look that way with minor tweaks to the headlights, taillights, mirrors and grill until Ford sold Jaguar in 2008) and made me learn to change my oil and brakes so that I “would never have to wait around on someone to do it for me.” (Read: so you will never get married and not need me.) You know what I do NOT love about cars? Going to get mine serviced. Mainly because due to the fact that I have tits, mechanics assume they can tell me I need new brakes when I bring my car in for an oil change… two weeks after I have had my brakes done. (True story.) I would just rather a man deal with that while I am at home in bed on Saturday mornings.
2. Carrying things upstairs.
I live on the third floor. It seemed like a good idea at the time. You know what is NOT a good idea? Bringing in groceries into said third floor apartment. I have to make NO LESS than three trips most of the time. And don’t let there be something heavy like cases of dog food or water. They are likely to stay in my car until I can manage to bring them up a few cans/bottles at a time over the course of a couple days. And as my dog likes to eat everyday and I drink more water than a fish, THERE ARE ALWAYS CASES OF DOG FOOD AND WATER. I’ll do all the grocery shopping and bring up some light bags. But I would surely toss the keys at my live-in boyfriend’s face upon my return and tell him to get on the heavy lifting.
3. Eating Leftovers.
I have a problem. I don’t know how to cook for one person. At all. Everything I’ve ever learned to cook was family portions. This is great for taking leftovers for lunch and nights where I don’t feel like cooking. The problem is, that it seems like something is always going bad because I never get around to eating it. And for someone who doesn’t like to waste anything, this is a problem. And I feel like if I can grocery shop and cook, you can AT LEAST bring up the heavy stuff and eat.
4. Kill bugs.
‘Member how I said I live on the third floor? Well I also live on the third floor of a building facing the woods. Which is lovely and quiet, but tends to lend itself to my apartment becoming a safe house on the underground bug road. And I don’t appreciate it. I am not nearly as terrified as I once was about killing the miscellaneous creatures and spiders and flies (oh my!) that have found their unfortunate way into my house. But the truth is, I don’t wanna. Come kill this damn bug and go get groceries outta the car. This is why I have you, Hypothetical Live-in Boyfriend.
5. Reach things.
A bitch is short. There is no other nice way to put it. And while I can usually climb the counters in the kitchen to reach the things in my upper cabinets that I need, my closet is a different story. I have a rack in the top of my closet that seems like it would be great to use… except I cannot reach up that high to actually access it. Puberty foils me again.
6. Lotion my back, clasp my bracelets, zip up a dress, etc.
Does anyone remember that episode of Sex and the City where Samantha called a guy over to have sex with her just so she could get him to clasp a bracelet for her? You have not ever truly lived the single life until you have done this. There is one bracelet in particular that I love, love, LOVE and it takes me NO LESS than 30 minutes to put it on. Common sense would dictate I just not wear the bracelet anymore, but it was handmade by a friend and I just adore it. Besides I would MUCH rather just move someone in to help with these sorts of things especially if it means…
7. Splitting the bills.
If the idea of splitting all your household bills with someone doesn’t absolutely make you wetter than David Beckham in boxer briefs, I wanna know where you work and what economy you are living in. It must be nice there. Seriously, dual income is where it’s at. I obviously don’t know this from experience but I have been rocking out with this whole single income thing for awhile and I can ASSURE you it is not the shake. I told my mom that I was going to get married in 2011 and she got all excited…until I told her that I meant strictly for the dual income and tax incentives. She was crestfallen. But then again, she has never had to pay student loans. “Split down the middle” is absolutely the best foreplay I can imagine right now. Speaking of which…
8. Put out AT LEAST 3 times a week.
This is non-negotiable. NON-NEGOTIABLE. You mean to tell me there is a program I can get with where I don’t have to sit through two hours of boring chit chat about what we do, our upwardly mobile, educated, much-too-small-in-this-city circle just to get him to put out?
What’s that you say? I don’t have to get dressed? I don’t have to put on heels (though it could be fun to keep them on)?!
*hands go up… and they stay there*
Sign me up.
I listen to the tales of my girlfriends with live-ins and I am absolutely 200% envious. I am pretty sure the only thing better than really great dick is really great CONVENIENT dick and what is more convenient than RIGHT NEXT TO ME? As it stands, I have to go through way too much to get laid. I think I deserve this.
So what about you? I know I am not alone. What other totally inappropriate but still important reasons do you have for wanting a live-in boyfriend? Leave them in the comments.