For the last two and a half years I’ve had about the best roommate possible.

For the last eight months, he’s been working in Paris but still paying his rent. That made him even better.

But all ridiculously awesome situations must come to an end. My excellent and absent roomie is staying in France and no longer wants to pay me large amounts of money to store his stuff, which is mostly just his comic book collection. His stuff is all in boxes in the front room. Unattended. It’s going into a storage locker. Which means I’ve had ample opportunity to slip strange things into his Rubbermaid Roughneck bins. Who knows when he’ll open them again to find the unopened Probe game from the 1960s I found at the flea market. Or the series of dog-mauled golf balls. Or the strangely-shaped rusty metal bar I found in the garage. Or the compendium of butch lesbo s&m erotica.

Ah, good times. There are few things I like better than a slow-release practical joke.

I’ve never really had to look for a roommate. I’ve looked for a place with friends, I’ve looked for a room in a new city living with strangers, but I’ve never had a place and needed someone to share it with.

I have a pretty rad pad. It’s definitely a boys’ house. It’s also an animators’ house. I met Outgoing Roomie in animation school. We got along great on group projects, so when I discovered he needed a roommate, we knew it would probably work. So it’s a cluttered, artsy, comfy, slackass boys’ pad. With action figures everywhere

I’m a little set in my ways. Adjusting to someone new is going to be hard. I recognize this and wrote a Craigslist post in such a way that only people who kind of get what I’m after would respond.

I haven’t got too many responses. Two thus far.

I met candidate #1 last night. He came over for a beer. He’s a really nice guy! He’s quite active on the web, so I’d been able to see some of what he’s into, as well as confirm that he’s likely to be able to pay his share of the rent.

First thing he says when he sees my place is: “I have a projection monitor.”

Good start, pally!

“I have some cool art that could go up!”

OK, probably cool…this place has never been decorated per se…mostly we just put things places when we brought them in and they’re still there.

“I’m recently divorced, and I’m feeling pretty reflective these days.”

All right, maybe some soft weeping, but he’s likely to be quiet...

“So I’m dating a lot of different women, and I’ll probably bring them home.”

Drama Alert. Also: Other People’s Sex Noises Alert.

“Oo, and I’ve got some turntables I’ve been wanting to set up!”

He looks at me like this is exciting news, and not a vista into Hell.

“Oh, and I’ve got two kids, seven and four. The four-year-old is autistic. I get them on weekends.”

OK, where’s the frickin’ camera hidden?

I had a hard time keeping a straight face. Children in my house is funny enough. Children living in my house…now that’s a gutbuster.

Anyway I mailed him back today to tell him that perhaps another arrangement would be more to his liking. We did get along, though, and to his credit, he said he’d give me a call once he finds a place since we both like beer, weed, and shitty sci-fi movies. No roomie for me, but another drinkin’ buddy, one who knows lots of ‘cute technotribal hippiechicks’. Score for me, I reckon.

Candidate #2’s email was full of spelling mistakes, and there was no name or indication of gender. Still and all, whoever wrote it seemed pretty nice, and into some cool stuff. I did an online reverse lookup thing with the phone number from the email, and found a name. It’s a Chinese name, which is a good excuse for spelling mistakes. But I can’t tell much from Chinese names. The spelling of the name in Roman characters looked to be that of a Mandarin speaker, which is cool…in this town a Mandarin speaker who doesn’t seem nerdy is likely to be Taiwanese. I like Taiwanese folks, I speak some Mandarin and it would be good to get some practice. There are three Mandarin speakers in my office, so I showed them the name to see if they could tell me what gender the name belonged to. Interestingly, both women said ‘definitely male’, and the man said ‘definitely female’. Mandarin loses a little info in Romanization.

I met him this morning, and learned not to be so high-falutin’ with my linguistic skullduggery. He is of Chinese background, but is actually just a small-town beer-drinkin’ Canadian boy, as likely to speak Chinese as someone called Carl Larsen would be likely to speak Swedish. No excuse for the spelling mistakes. He’s unemployed and thinks my Porch is a perfect place to play his acoustic git-tar. Mmmm. No. You don't mess with the Porch. The Porch is for quiet contemplation, not Stairway to Heaven.

Next!

After #2 left, I got an email from my friend Kate, who’s traveling in Thailand until exactly the time I need a roommate. I’d asked her before and she was non-committal. Kate’s a good pal, who I’ve known for two years and worked with on several occasions. She’s responsible, quiet, and makes a decent living. She’ll help me with my garden, she’s clean, and has great taste in music. She loves my house, loves my cat, and loves to feed me stuff she cooks. I trust her, and I would be lying if I said she wasn’t easy on the eyes. She was writing to ask if I still needed a roommate.

So my pad will no longer just be a boys' pad. There may be incense, hair clogs, and insistence on specific toilet seat positions.

But: who cares. Score one great roomie for me!

And one last thing:

Kate has a projection monitor too.