Letters to the Editor
ololon
Published Letters: 80 Editor's Choice: 14
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And baby makes 4
[Read the article: I let my friends stay with me and now they're evicting me!]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]Cary is right. The guy should move. Not because, by sleeping on the couch, he's acted as if he's the one who should -- that's ludicrous. Not because he has any responsibility towards the child -- even more ludicrous. Not because he may legally have to move, because of discrimination issues -- perhaps true, but not the reason why. Not even because he wants to be share a table with Gandhi and Mommie T in the afterlife, since the "friend" and baby mama will certainly have to negotiate a new and more-expensive lease, if they even get to stay; LW has no right to give them the apartment, and the landlord gets to up the rent with every lease turnover.
Rather, LW should move because he can't afford the place alone and should probably steer clear of roommates for awhile. Like forever.
I've had my own run-in with a roommate friend. Suffice it to say, her parents owned the building and were soon after prosecuted for being slumlords. In NYC. Imagine just how slummy they had to be to get called on it in Slumlord Central? Gotta love that karma. Anyway, this can get ugly and will. LW should cover his legal butt and find a place he can afford without a flatmate. If this is the place he wants, and he can afford to live there alone, he can fight the good fight but be prepared to swim in the muck.
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No such thing as TMI
[Read the article: Should I tell my kids about all the drugs I used to do?]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]Hold on, wait... that's not true. There is such a thing as too much information. Detailing specific incidences of drug use would be way too much information; it's one thing to list consequences, but another to reminisce to your teenager.
Fortunately for me, and for many others who've indulged excessively in the past, we can't recall enough of our party days to tell lurid tales. We can't recall the people we've slept with, or the parties attended, or the great times with those great friends with whom we snorted a few lines and danced the night away. Oh sure, we can make some stuff up from the bits and pieces floating around in our heads, fill in the gaps and turn out a story McInerney would appreciate, but the truth is we lost our youth, we lost those glorious days, and what we can remember is the morning after and the horrible cycle of trying to make those nights of oblivion endless.
If and when my daughter asks me about my past drug use or sexual activities, I'll tell her that there's only so much I can share. Yes, I did drugs. Yes, I had irresponsible premarital sex. Lots of both. Tons. It was great! But don't ask me how great, because all I know is I had a really fabulous time at the Stones concert -- front row, backstage -- but I can't recall the music, and I can't recall the stage, and I can't recall the whole drive home. I know I did a shitload of blow, and I know I was a mess the next day, but I never did find out where I put the backstage pass, so I've no memento, nothing but my memories. I do remember who I lost my virginity to, but not the experience itself, because I was drunk... not even well and truly plowed, but just enough to make it hard to remember anything but the Billie Holiday record that played throughout. And I could ask friends, but... we aren't really friends any more, having had no real experiences to bind us, just lots of oblivion, and then there are those who embraced the oblivion permanently. Did I tell you about my friend Ted? If you're lucky, you'll have such a friend... and you'll never do drugs with him, never get so fucked up at his parties you can't remember every single minute you spent with him, because he'll shoot himself dead and you'll be left with half memories, only the ones when you were sober, and since they aren't everything, they aren't enough.
I'll say this to my daughter, and perhaps more, but what is the most important thing I will say to her is this: yes I did drugs, and I did it to numb myself, because being a human -- especially a teenage human -- sometimes sucks, but I would go back and feel every bit of pain I could if only I could get back those memories. And I don't know a single person who used drugs with any kind of regularity who doesn't feel exactly the same way.
It will humiliate me, but I will still tell my daughter this. And be thankful that we have enough of a relationship for her to ask.