Dodgy Bastards Abound: The Househunt Continues

I wrote some time ago that I would keep you abreast of my search for a new abode. That was a while ago, but in my defense I would like to point out that nothing much has been happening on that front (although Castle Anthrax has seemed less Anthrax-y of late. Maybe it looks really good in comparison to all the other places I’ve seen?).

Earlier this week I very, very nearly had a new house. It was a lovely house, had seemingly nice people there, and was in a suburb I really like. The interview went swimmingly and the house was actually in my price range, which was nice because nothing else seems to be. It wasn’t until I got a message from them on Tuesday saying I could have the room if I wanted and that it was almost $100 per month than they’d first said that the alarm bells started playing Betty Blowtorch’s ‘Shut Up and Fuck’ (they’re my personalised alarm bells, you see). I rang them back in the evening and spoke to the guy who’d called me again. I asked about the discrepancy in rent. “Well,” he said, “the total cost of the house is $X a month…”.
“Hang on,” I said, “you told me it was $Y.”
“Did I?” he asked innocently. Yeah, butter wouldn’t melt up his arse.
I mumbled something polite along the lines of “oh, I must have misheard” (despite the fact that we’d had a long conversation about the total monthy cost of the house during my interview because it wasn’t $Y precisely, but some weird amount that involved uneven numbers and cents), and made my conversational retreat. It was all just a little bit fishy. As, actually, I’ve found all the male-dominated sharehouses I’ve looked at so far to be. Sorry, guys, but that’s my experience. Maybe I am drawn to them somehow? I make a point of not dating fucktards or arsehats, so maybe I need to fulfil my arsehole quotient elsewhere?

Seeing as how I ended the conversation before I could ask any of the other questions I had about the house (since they all pertained to me living there, which I’d decided was not an option), I had some questions unanswered. The one that I’m most curious about now is that he mentioned in the phone message that another guy who was moving in was called Troy and is “from the country”. Now I know it’s very naive of me to assume connections just because I’m originally from the country too (‘though ahm smrt enough not t’ get suckered in by them thar city slickers), and used to know a guy named Troy. But for a while, I was genuinely wondering if it was the same Troy I went to high school with. Before the rent malarkey eventuated, I was also fervently hoping it was not, because there’s no way in hell I’d want to live with the Troy I know. This Troy was, in his high school years, really not a very nice person. He was creepy, but the kind of creepy a lot of stupid girls seem to go for. My friends and I called him Mr Date Rape, partly out of a general dislike and partly because of things we’d either noticed or heard about him.
At one stage he was dating one of my good friends (who, it must be conceeded, wasn’t all that bright), so he took to hanging around my group at recess and lunchtimes, which naturally we were all delighted by. I know it’s terribly prudish of me, but I find it kind of annoying when I’m trying to talk to a friend and someone else is trying to finger fuck them at the same time and we’re all sitting in a public space in broad daylight.

After I left high school and moved to Melbourne, I put people like Troy (and there’d been a lot of them) out of my mind. In fact, I lost contact with most of the people I knew from the area I’d grown up in (with a few very notable exceptions). The thing is, even far away from home, people from dear old Gippy seem to flock together. The friends I had in Melbourne who’d moved up from home had other friends who’d also moved up, so at one point a few years ago I had quite a large network of Gippsland expatriates. They still had ties back home, so I got quite a lot of gossip about who was seen screaming at their significant other in the middle of the street about who’d smoked the last Stuvey, and about who was now fulfilling the dual careers of junkie and single parent.

One of the people in this group was a guy called Andy, whom I’d actually known many many years before through a drama class, and who was now a friend of one of my friends. He was a very camp, pretty young gay boy and had done the whole move-to-St-Kilda-and-go-wild thing. We (being a bunch of mostly straightish girls) all enjoyed hearing his stories of his latest conquest. My ears pricked up one day over breakfast when he started on about his Gippsland conquests. I was surprised to hear Troy’s full name come up in conversation.
“Him?” I said. “But he’s Mr Predatory Heterosexuality!”
“No,” Andy said slowly, “you must be thinking of someone else.”
We compared notes on physical attributes to make sure we were both talking about the same guy. It turned out we were, although I refused to agree with Andy’s assertion that he had a great arse. I sat back, stunned.
“But…” I murmured, “he’s…just…gross, and he’s…I can’t believe it.”
“Well, you’d better believe it.”
“I’m just not sure I can, Andy. I’m just not sure I can.”
“Well, darling” he said, with a theatrical toss of his head, “if it convinces you any further, he certainly sucks cock like a faggot.”
And there was just no argument I could make against that irrefutable statement.

6 Responses to “Dodgy Bastards Abound: The Househunt Continues”

  1. edna million Says:

    ahhh gay men sure know how to end a conversation with flair.
    Well, it is good you experienced the landlord being dodgy then instead of moving in and finding out later, right?
    found your site through momofreaksout

  2. momo Says:

    I grew up in the country, too. Through the five or so friends I kept in contact with, we’ve got a mighty network of salacious gossip about people I never liked much. They all seemed to have 20 kids, married a footy jock then, just after the honeymoon in Hamilton Island ended, rooted his best ugly footy jock best friend as payback for him rooting her own netball-toting best friend. Urk.

    I think you have to have grown up in the country to be privy to such gossip: city folk seem to just melt away from their school chums.

    There’s a Troy surprise in every bunch.

  3. Dani Says:

    Just found this through wherethewildthings, and you and your archives have managed to distract me from a good 30 miniutes of work – good job!

  4. Caz Says:

    My brother will be requiring a flatmate from June 18 onwards. Its a complete and utter hellhole, hence I’m moving out. But you can play X-Box with him and he can hack into the computers of people you don’t like and show you how to bluejack people at Greensborough Plaza.

  5. adam ford Says:

    hahahahaahhahah arsehat!


    This of course raises the question of the distinct way different sexual persuasions suck cock, and exactly what your friend’s experience with the way straight men, straight women or even lesbians suck cock.

    oh i’m a smartarse, me.

  6. adam ford Says:

    is. what your friends experience with the way straight men, straight women or even lesbians suck cock IS.