The past several weeks included a lot of drama which resulted in the break-up of my best friend and his girlfriend. The break-up then erupted into more drama that, to my knowledge is sort-of resolved.

In that time though, I was able to buy and construct a writing desk for my bed room so that I can blog more frequently.

But back to the drama.

It all began when I called the “girlfriend” out on her pot-smoking and breastfeeding. She did not like being questioned about that because she feels strongly that as the mother, she knows what is acceptable for her baby.

Of course that snowballed in her mind to mean that I didn’t want her to move in.

A bit of background: shortly after I had placed a bid on the house (late April) my best friend and his babies mama got back together. So of course, the topic came up as to when she could move in. At that time, due to agreements with the accepted offer on the house, our projected move-in date was July 20 – 30 days after the projected closing date of June 20.

At that time I knew that I HAD to be moved out of the apartment by August 1, that the house would be completely unfurnished for an infant, and that my two roommates would also need time to move their stuff in.

With all of this in mind, I figured that a good move-in date would be August 14. It would give us all plenty of time to get moved in and allow us to focus on making the correct accommodations for the baby.


Fast forward to August 7. Now ‘the girlfriend’ gets this notion in her head that I created the date because I didn’t want her to move in. She sends me a storm of text messages full of accusations and then gives my best friend an earful about how unwelcome she feels in the house.

When I show my best friend the text messages, he gets livid. Apparently she has been giving him ultimatums all along, none of which he acknowledged – but that was the last straw, so he broke up with her.

Which ignited yet another shit storm.

You see, she lives with her mom, has no bills and has everything she wants handed to her. Despite having a job, her parents furnish everything for her.

But now that she has a baby and feels all grown up, she wants to move out, get her own apartment and wants her ex-boyfriend to pay for it.


“Don’t you want your daughter to live in a nice place?” she pleads standing in me and her ex-boyfriends new 2,000 sq. ft. house.

He replies to this ludicrous plea of hers by saying “my daughter has a nice place to live – my house. You’ll have to pay for your own place just like I have to pay for mine.” She thought this notion was absurd and left with a warning to him:

“I’m going to talk to a lawyer!”

Further drama ensued, but us three at the house are having a pleasant time. It is so comfortable here now that the drama and tension she was persistently causing is gone. My best friend who was drinking quite heavily when he was in a relationship with her has thrown out all his remaining beer and hasn’t had a drink for almost a week and a half.

We are back to hugging each other and telling each other we love each other daily – something that she tried diligently to put and end to.

We are all creating routines for ourselves.

I’m going to ATTEMPT to keep posting on this blog now that I have the desk and a designated computer for it. (I got a cheap Samsung Chrome book several months ago that I could not find a suitable purpose for – so now it’s my blogging computer.)

I also want to get back to my old pattern of reading 1 to 3 books a week and writing essays and short stories.

And hopefully do some baking from time to time too.


I wasn’t sure how to work this into the above narrative, however my best friend was told by his then girlfriend that “breastfeeding is a natural birth control” and that she couldn’t get pregnant. So she stopped taking her birth control and they have unprotected sex.

This is early July when this episode happens.

This past weekend, she comes over to the house, let’s herself in like she lives here and has to tell my best friend something.

She had a miscarriage.

When he told me about all of this, I PROMISE that this is the first time that I was legitimately angry at my dear best friend. How could he be so easily mislead like that? I love him immensely but he really should have known better.

Regardless of his blunders, this is his house – he’s not going anywhere. For better or for worse, I’ll take care of him.