I was happy for Lily when she started seeing Max. Honestly I was. After she’d finally broken up with her last boyfriend, tearfully deciding their on-again-off-again relationship wasn’t so much indicative of how they were meant to be together and intrinsically drawn to each other, but rather that he was ‘weak and spineless’ and incapable of telling her he just wasn’t in love with her anymore, she deserved to find someone that would truly make her happy. So when a random stranger walked into the house late one evening, asked if Lily was in and then walked right back out again, I assumed she’d found someone new, nodded sagely to myself and made a mental note to keep the door locked.
Any misgivings I had - like that he was technically homeless, emotionally and financially needy in a way that could leave Lily as tired and tapped out as you can only imagine Lindsey Lohan’s bank manager must be by now and he had already slept his way through half of Lily’s friendship group and extended circles, his exes having a nasty way of cropping up whenever they were out together - were pushed down. He seemed to adore her and that was enough to ignore the persistent rumours floating around. For the moment, anyway. Plus, Lily was adamant that wasn’t going to happen to her: he could stay round a few times a week but only if she was there and they had plans together. Plus, they seemed to make each other happy and Max was nothing if not the devoted boyfriend. As long as long as he didn’t do anything to the contrary, I’d keep my peace.
Predictably though, it wasn’t long before I’d hear the door slam and find Max hiding out in Lily’s room while she was at work. If he happened to be using the washing machine at the time (as he often did), then it would just be in a robe. While most of the time I was just happy for Lily that he was washing his clothes at all - honestly, for her sake, I’d have liked it to have been more often - I wished he would do it elsewhere, where it would be him and not us that would be footing the bill.
Predictably enough, it wasn’t long before I’d hear the door slam and find Max hiding out in Lily’s room while she was at work
Suddenly there was someone else to vie with for the shower in the morning and I’d be left staring frustrated at a perennially closed bathroom door. Then certain food would disappear. I mean, the man’s almost seven foot tall; I got that he needs to eat more than the rest of us and hey, maybe it would also keep me on the dietary straight and narrow. But dude: I work from home. That £1 yoghurt from ASDA is sometimes the only thing that will get me through an afternoon. Hands off.
But if him being in my house when my housemate wasn't there was annoying enough, pretty soon I also came to dread the evenings when Lily would be in. If they weren’t canoodling on the sofa, they’d be doing so in her bedroom instead with the door open, which was both uncomfortable and would potentially drown out Made In Chelsea.
Through it all though, there has been the ever-present worry that if I try to talk to her about it, I could risk making the situation worse. When any of our friends have questioned Max’s suitability, Lily has unfailingly rushed to defend him, quoting how hard he has had it, claiming they just didn’t understand what he had been through, and not wanting to risk pushing her away, they would stop trying.
Complaining that you’re cashing out £450 a month on rent, while he’s effectively enjoying the same house for free, sounds like you’re stingy
Not wanting the same thing to happen to us, I’ve gone for the passive route of shutting up and putting up. After all, complaining that you’re cashing out £450 a month on rent, while he’s effectively enjoying the same house for free, just sounds like you’re putting a stingy price on your friend’s new relationship.
How do you bring something like that up without sounding petty and small when your friend, whom you love, has found someone who makes her happy and loves her too? Besides, even if I did say something, what exactly would be the solution? Suggesting he pay some money towards the rent would just condone his constant presence and lump me with an extra, unwanted housemate. Contributing some cash to the water bill might make up for the bathroom queues, but then, how exactly do you bring that up without sounding catty?
Instead of risking pushing her away, I’ve let him outstay his welcome. I just don’t know if, by doing so, I’m hurting or helping a friendship in the process.
Follow Amy on Twitter @LavelleActually
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.