I moved in with a long-time friend and her mother, paying $100 a month to sleep on the couch, in the public space, no privacy, very little sleep.

They knew I smoked my herb. We were straight up about that when I moved in.

Then the landlord who they are renting the apartment from notices that I’m sleeping on the couch and demands that I pay the rent directly to him. Part of the reason they had me move in was protection, that I was a dude and they were no longer two women living alone in the hood.

Then I get asked why I am not pitching in for groceries, and I inform them that I only eat at work and never eat at home. Personally, I wouldn’t eat anything that came out of their kitchen.

Then they ask me why I don’t do the dishes and I respond that I do not wash dishes because I do not dirty dishes—at all.

Then, my roommate, my longtime friend for like twenty years, tells me that I need to kick them some money or she is going to call the cops and have me busted for smoking weed!

That’s what longtime friendship means to a woman when the cash stops flowing.

So I’m looking for a place, Bro.