Meet Paul and Mary

My name is Mary and I am writing this blog with my best friend and roommate Paul.  We share a two-bedroom apartment in Santa Monica, with Paul’s dog Maximilian and my fish, whose name is Mo.  This “Fish in a Pond” is all that remains from 8 years with my ex-boyfriend John.  He left me a bunch of his dirty socks in the washing machine and his fish Mo.  In memory of my love for him and out of respect for our “committed relationship,” I washed the socks and UPS’ed them to his new address.  I also contacted him several times about picking up his fish.  He sent me a thank you note for the socks but never mentioned Mo.  I think it was his evil plan from the start.  He knew I would never throw away a living creature, so he left me his fish as a constant reminder of his jealous and competitive nature.  And, Oh Boy!  Mo is one of a kind.  We tried to buy other fishes to keep her company, but it never worked out.  Big, small, beautiful or ugly, none of them survived.  I believe this was due to Mo’s competitive nature.

From the moment Paul moved into John’s office, we have tried hard to create harmony in our little household.  I work on my relationship with Maximilian, trying to accept his ugly looks and strange habits.  Paul flatters Mo with compliments on her beautiful, intelligent features and compares her constantly with Maximilian (definitely a winning strategy).  The dog is for sure ugly, but very sweet and blindly attached to Paul.  I don’t use the word “love,” because in this case Maximilian’s understanding of love is much broader and more complex than my own.  I believe he sees himself as a Prince Charming, because he makes sexual advances to all the most beautiful and pure-bred dogs, regardless of size or gender.  It may seem that Maximilian is a gambler at heart, with a “hit or miss” strategy, but in reality he always has a plan B.  If the high-profile relationship doesn’t work out, he immediately moves on to a lower-class dog, or just humps everything that he can find, including Paul’s boyfriends.  Surprisingly to me, Paul has never showed any frustration with Maximilian and actually finds him amusing.  He tells his dates that the dog’s behavior results from a difficult childhood, since Maximilian came from an animal rescue shelter.  Paul likes to invent all kinds of horrible stories about Maximilian’s past and tells people that his dog is undergoing therapy with a famous L.A. dog psychic, for which he pays big bucks.  None of this is true, but it adds an edgy touch to the conversation.

I met Paul 3 years ago at the “Golden Bridge” Yoga studio.  Obviously, you don’t expect to meet a straight guy at a Belly Dancing class.  He immediately declared that he had joined the class to explore his feminine side.  He looked hot and sexy in his tight black leggings and white tank top slightly covering his torso, as though he just stepped out of a Gay Fitness magazine.  We clicked right away, and soon I found myself dependent on his charming company.  When John moved out, it happened that Paul was looking for an apartment in Santa Monica closer to his office.  He works as a massage therapist two blocks away and walks to work.  It has worked out well for both of us.

For the last 5 years I worked as a freelance web designer, but when the economy went sour I got a full-time job working for corporate America, joining millions of L.A. rush-hour commuters.  Like all situations in life, this has its positive and negative aspects.  I enjoy the financial stability and have stopped having nightmares of not being able to pay my rent on time.  On the other hand, corporate politics frustrates me.  I feel like a little ant among thousands of other ants just like me, jostling around in a great big pile of shit.

Since high school I have written short humorous stories, as a kind of a spoof on the reality I experience.  It has always worked as therapy for me.  Now, I have decided to blog about Paul’s and my real life.  Paul promised to illustrate my posts, since he took a lot of art classes in college and loves to draw.

Let’s see what comes of it..