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Title: Goodbye Boyfriend, Hello Roommate

Author: michael louis corrente

Article:
Let me start by painting a picturesque fairytale for you (fairy
being the operative word here). I was 17 when I met him. Started
dating when I just turned 18. Completely head over heels in love
for the first time ever in my life by 19. Through the very early
20’s we were truly a gay role model couple. We were together for
years, with very few fights (which seemed only really to begin
when we turned 21 and began to realize how much we actually
liked to drink). Then at almost 23, the moment we had been
waiting for was finally upon us. We were moving in together!
Could it get any better than this? No. By 23 and a half we had
broken up. After almost 6 long years, it was official. I was
single again. After pouring all of our money into this
apartment, what were two recent graduates, making small salaries
to do? Move back home with our parents? God no. There was no
other choice than to just suck it up and wait it out. I thought
this arrangement was going to seem completely bizarre to
outsiders, but I began to realize that this is a trend happening
all over. It has become an unfortunate outcome of big city
living. More and more gay boys, lesbians, and breeders alike are
trapped into living with their ex until they can either afford
to move out, or until their lease is up. After a breakup occurs,
there is nothing that someone wants to do more than get the hell
away from that other person. When you are trapped living in a
small apartment (and still sharing a bed in my case) you just
begin to stew in your own feelings. To quote a nerd friend of
mine, you’re thoughts are like DNA replication. The first couple
of times, they are exactly the same, but after a while, they can
mutate, cause cancer and kill you! Well, maybe that is slightly
overdramatic, but you get the gist. I was so confused as to
whether we were friends, would remain friends, and who, in the
divide, would keep our mutual friends. Not to mention the
daunting task of attempting not to sleep together, which almost
never works out. It was probably the most chaotic, emotional
time in my short life. After 7 months of cohabitation, I was
able to afford to pack up my things and hit the road. It’s been
almost a week since I moved out. The day after the move I went
back over there to pick-up some last minute things. The entire
apartment was different. There was new furniture and accessories
throughout each room, all in a different layout. The rest of my
belongings lay clumped together in a sad pile in the kitchen. It
hurt. It hurt bad. It was then the realization walloped me
upside the head and finally set in. That was no longer my home.
No matter how much I was suffering, I understood. He needed to
start over; to make that apartment his, not ours. I was lucky
enough to leave the apartment we grew in and shared together for
over a year. He was stuck staying there with the memories. It is
still entirely too soon to tell if we can salvage a friendship
out of this. I guess I’m giving it the same mentality as I have
done with job interviews. I’m hoping for the best, but expecting
the worse. Too bad I can’t collect unemployment for a broken
heart.

About the author:
A 24-year-old NY native who currently pays his bills as a grant
writer.