Our new roommate!

The next morning, I sent an email to Daniel, telling him about Joanna's MySpace ace card. I said the Beth Mullin connection didn't guarantee anything but that it was definitely a mark in Joanna's favor. I suggested a mudwrestling competition to settle who gets the room. Or perhaps let them both move in, then pose a series of intricate challenges to determine who gets voted off the island.

Daniel had other ideas. He decided to play it like a warrior. Within a couple hours, Daniel did some Friendster research and determined that he was a childhood friend of my first serious girlfriend, Lani. In fact, his twin brother's first kiss was Lani's older sister.

A couple things came to mind. First, do I live in a city or a village? How is it that everyone in Boston seems separated by two degrees, max? I work with two guys from the UMass journalism program, another co-worker went to high school with Bethany, I ran into a kid from high school in the work cafe. And that's just work! In real life, things get even more incestuous.

My second thought was to contact Lani and find out if this guy was a nurse murderer or a leper. Lani remains a close friend so her opinion gets more creds than your typical ker-azy ex. I was kind of hoping she'd hate this guy to make our decision easier. But no. She said, "I love him. You guys should live together, it'd be great."

Alright, so it was time for auditions. I'm no Simon Cowell but you have to be a bit cutthroat with situations like these. I mean, what's more important than who you live with? (If you say that who you sleep with is more important, that means you are shallow and sex-crazed. Sorry.)

Daniel came over on Friday evening, right after work. He showed up on his bike, with a six-pack of delicious micro-brewed beer under his arm. I wanted to remain alert and judgemental so I declined a beer, but he helped himself. I liked his immediate comfort level with the situation.

So we sat around shooting the shit about careers, cuisine and reggae music (Daniel likes to get lifted.) After about an hour, he had passed the first round with flying colors. Winning finale- after he walked out, I realized he had left his six-pack. I went running out on the porch and yelled, "Hey dude, your beer!" Daniel turned around, winked and gave me the finger-gun motion (what's that called?) Then he hopped on his bike and took off.

Joanna came over the following Tuesday, driving down from her hometown of Portland, Maine. She was late for a rendez-vous with a friend, so we only got a cursory meet n greet. "Look at the hardwood floors, this cat is crazy, trash day is Monday, goodbye." Because our meeting was brief, we didn't have many opportunities to make jokes. For all I knew, she might hate fun. But much like her e-mail, I based my feeling on, ah, vibes (I hate using that word because it's loaded with hippie stank, but sometimes it is the only thing that fits.)

So I called Daniel to say, "I don't know, you both seemed pretty cool, I'm confused. My heart is too big..." Thing is, at the last minute, Daniel decided he hated us! Or maybe he said something about the kitchen being too small and wanting his own place. The details have gotten a bit fuzzy with time and excessive drinking.

Thing is, Daniel sent a long apologetic email, explaining his situation, but tentatively saying we should still hang out. Friendship foreplay is delicate territory when it comes to a couple of dudes, because I think no one wants to seem like a big queeah. I'm not exactly the picture of machismo though, so I told him, "Yes, let's trade Garbage Pail Kids and tease girls together. Friends!"

Daniel epilogue: We have actually socialized a couple times since then, we're still in touch, in fact he's probably reading this post right now! I'll tell you a secret, some of my female friends think he's quite the catch. Row!

The rest of the story is gravy. Jon met Joanna for lunch at South Station, they got along, we agreed for her to move in mid-month. Jon and I had to swallow half a month's rent for that Texan flake.

And amazingly, we've gotten along swimmingly. Jon and I, who work together, live together, and he dates my sister, have maintained enough space that we're still fast friends. Joanna, the wild card, is a rock and roll superstar. She loves jokes, cooking deliciously and drinking like a sailor (hey Joanna, you never sent this link to your mom, right?)

Besides her angry French cat Didier, who is the spawn of Jacques Chirac and the devil, we couldn't be happier.

Whew, it's over. Thanks for your patience everybody. Unless you were impatient, in which case you can feel free to suck an egg.

~fin~

Joanna

I almost forgot to mention, Grayskull stopped peeing on the world, so we kept her! Who could split up hot make-out sessions like this one?