2 Eggs, 3 Yolks

2 Eggs, 3 Yolks

July 09, 2024

In college, our situation came from necessity. I roomed with Holly and Elizabeth. They are gay. I am straight. I gave them as much clearance as they required. I also paid half of the rent and most of the utilities. I got three hots and a cot. They got a friend.

After graduation, we opted to continue this arrangement in Los Angeles. I found a position in finance selling mutual funds. Holly became a baker. Elizabeth worked for an ad agency as a copywriter. The rent was outrageous, but we managed. We ate dinner together two or three times a week. I worked out when I could. The girls found the city both exciting and invigorating. We were in our grooves within a few months.

Then the girls began arguing. First, it was about the late nights for Holly and the early rising for Elizabeth. Then, the arguing moved to the silent treatment. With these two, a break up was imminent, but a change in domiciles was impossible. I offered Holly my bedroom while I slept on the couch.

It should have deescalated the tension. It only made things worse.

The yelling became louder. The girls did not want to be in the house at the same time.

I just wanted the best for the three of us. And that’s where I went wrong.

One day I left for work, only having to return to the apartment to pick up my phone. I had the chance to overhear the girls crying and fighting and crying again.

So I listened.

Holly told Elizabeth that the someone else she had fallen for was me. Elizabeth saw her life with Holly at an end. Where would she go? How could she pay her bills on her own? It would be too awkward to remain and too difficult to leave. Holly said things like this just happen and that Elizabeth would be fine on her own.

Holly gave Elizabeth just two weeks to leave the apartment.

I silently went back to my car and departed when the garbage man arrived, creating enough noise to mask my car engine. I like Holly, but I never thought of her in that way before. I felt sorry for Elizabeth. It feels good to be wanted, but not at this price. Not this way.

But, on the day Elizabeth moved out, I gave Holly a chance. We hit it off immediately and had a great run. However, it only took three months before Holly sensed I was not the person for her. When we began to fight, I asked her to leave the apartment just before she asked me to leave. My name was the only name of the lease and the threat of calling the police was enough to convince Holly of the error of her ways.

After Holly left, I needed a roomie to help with the bills.

The very next day, who should come calling? Why, Elizabeth. She heard from a friend that Holly was gone. Could Elizabeth return?

Of course I said yes.

I wanted to be careful so as not to lose a good friend and a rent check. Elizabeth had other ideas. One night, she entered my room and crawled into the bed with me. I was close too drunk and feeling no pain. My instinct surpassed my reservation and we made love.

Within a month, I came home to find Holly moved back in, via permission of Elizabeth.

The two girls act as if nothing had ever occurred, everything is as it always was.

The girls are (now) exclusively gay. Both are back at work. All of the bills are paid.

And I sit bewildered, but saying nothing.

Somewhere, I have a calendar with a 18 week period I blacked out with a Sharpie. Those days have all of the meaning in the world for me, but only for me. I can never get them back. I can never speak of them. Sort of a self-imposed gas-lighting. Sort of an emotional exile.

I value that calendar more than anything else I own.