I knew Gabe from work. We'd worked together for going on 2 years. Honestly, we didn't become friends, though, until he started going through issues with his girlfriend, Sarah. One day we started talking in the coffee room at work, and since I had just gone through a messy breakup with my girlfriend of several years, I guess we bonded. We started hanging out some outside of work. Drinks or a game of golf every once in a while. You know.
When Gabe came home from work one day to find his suitcase packed and most of his stuff sitting at the front door of the apartment he and his girlfriend shared, he needed a place to stay. I had a spare room, and Gabe spent the night at my place. Things continued to crumble between Gabe and Sarah and eventually he asked me if he could move in as my roommate, help pay the rent and stuff. It was over between him and Sarah.
I was all for it. Gabe and I got along great. It would help him, and I would get help with expenses and upkeep. Not to mention it kind of sucked living alone. It seemed like a win-win.
So Gabe moved in, and things were going really well. Gabe was a super thoughtful person and a great roommate. We shared responsibilities like cooking, cleaning and dishes. Sometimes we kept to ourselves and sometimes we hung out, played video games, watched a movie or even went out for drinks.
One day I was cooking dinner in the kitchen, and Gabe was working late on his computer at the kitchen island. He closed his laptop and rested his chin on his hands. He was silent, just kind of staring into space for a second, so I said, "What's on your mind, bro?"
He opened his mouth to speak but then thought better of it and shook his head. "Naw, it's nothing." He started to get off the bar stool he was seated on.
Now I had to know.
"Hold up, hold up. I don't think so. You can't do that to me!" I put down the spoon I was holding and directed my attention toward him.
"Well," he said, obviously searching for words. "I just was thinking about how well this whole roommate thing has been going, y'know?" He paused for a response.
I nodded, reassuringly. "Yah, I think we've been getting along great!"
He nodded thoughtfully. "Things never went this well when I was living with my ex. It seemed like no matter what I did there was always something wrong. I wasn't helping enough around the house, or I wasn't doing it right, or she felt like I wasn't giving her enough attention. And God knows what all else!" He threw up his hands in exasperation.
We had had similar conversations a hundred times now. But I sensed that he wasn't done. "Yah," I said. "My ex was the same way. There was no pleasing her."
"Yah, exactly!" Gabe continued, getting worked up. "And don't get me started about sex! What the fuck is up with women and sex? Sarah NEVER initiated it with me. I always felt like I was dragging her to bed against her will. Like, I'm sorry, is it too much to ask that you, like, at least pretend you're enjoying this!?" He put his hands on the island and shook his head. "Honestly, sometimes I just wish women would be a little bit more like men."
I laughed and said, kiddingly, "What, like constantly wanting to have sex?"
"Yah, why not!? Would it be so bad?" he shot back. "Imagine being in a relationship with someone who actually wanted to have sex with you. And not only wanted to have sex. Wanted to have sex just as much, or maybe even more than you!"
I patted Gabe on the back and started back toward my cooking. "Well, good luck, bud. If you find a woman like that, ask her if she has a sister."
Gabe was silent for a minute. He had obviously calmed down a bit and was kind of brooding at the moment. Finally, he said, "When's the last time you had sex?"
I stirred the food on the stove and chuckled. "Way longer than I would like."
"Yah, me too," said Gabe.
There was a long silence, and I thought the conversation was over.
