I did NOT accept rent in the form of sex. I just want to make that clear in case you read the title of this blog post and dived into it with a box of Kleenex, a pot of Vaseline and an erection, with the expectation of having your virtual fantasy fulfilled. This ain’t that kind of place. Today.
This will probably be the first time I’m going to significantly weave my personal life into one of my blog posts, so this is a bit of a revelation for me; it probably means fuck all to you, because, you know, why would it? But hey, I thought what the hell, why don’t I give this “bonding” thing a spin. Let’s bond.
I’ve almost definitely vaguely mentioned that I’m a bitch-magnet in the realms of my reality (operative words, “my reality”), so multitudes of questionable women are often drifting in and out of my life, but I’ve never directly tied my sex life into one of my posts before. Allow me to commence.
So, I was recently dating this girl (I say “was” because we’re no longer kicking it like Beyonce and Jay-Z), whom I shall refer to as “Bambi” for the sake of keeping this blog post as seedy as possible. Bambi and I managed to reach that healthy point in our relationship where we were both comfortable enough to rendezvous without applying our eye-liner and fake eyelashes. She even felt comfortable enough to unclip her hair-extensions from her scalp and toss them onto the floor like cigarette butts before dropping off to sleep. As for my quirky little comforts; I was comfortable enough to dry my penis into her bedsheets after intercourse so I didn’t have to make that dreaded walk to the bathroom to wipe my tools down with toilet-paper. That said, we weren’t “exclusively dating”, but I think we had an unspoken rule where we weren’t meant to engage in intimate situations with other people. If that was the case, I’m pretty certain I stuck to the deal, minus a few drunken mishaps. Being human is tough, especially when you’re a nymphomaniac equipped with the mother of all chat-up lines, “I have a landlord blog, and people actually read it” Ahh the power of success, it’s magnificent.
While I’m dating, or “courting”, if you will, I try to avoid discussing my involvement with property. Reason being is dead simple- outside the confinement of my blog, I find the topic mundane and pointless, because we could be undressing one another with our teeth and fucking instead. Only joking. I meant “making-love”
For whatever reason, I remember briefly mentioning to Bambi that I had a few properties that I rent out at the beginning of our short-lived relationship. I can’t remember why the issue cropped up in conversation, but it did. Regardless, a few months down the line from the conversation, we were still enjoying one another’s company; I liked her, and she probably liked me a little more. It was a good deal.
As Bambi’s life started to develop and fall victim to the reality that is “change”, she suddenly found herself in a position where she would shortly require a property to rent. She was currently residing with her parents, but they were due to sell up ship out of the country. That’s when she hit me with the inevitable questions 1) Have I currently got any vacant properties? 2) If so, could she rent a room? I’d never been put in that situation before.
Awkward. Very awkward. Suddenly my erection had the stability of a freshly baked cinnamon pretzel.
I don’t even permit the sharing of my toothbrush, so allowing Bambi to rent a room from me was out of the question. I’m actually surprised I didn’t have a nose bleed when the question was posed. I definitely felt dizzy and light-headed at the time.
It’s nothing personal, but as a landlord, I choose not to rent out to friends, family or especially lovers! I personally think it’s a no-brainer, and you’d be mad to do it. However, I know many landlords that do. It’s just something I can’t afford to do; not financially, but emotionally. Well, maybe also financially. I’d probably end up accepting payments in the form of unorthodox sexual positions if I was renting a property to someone I had an intimate relationship with.
My response to Bambi was, “I don’t mix business with pleasure” It was a light hearted conversation, but she was dead serious about renting from me. She persistantly kept nudging me and saying, “Goooo on”, while innocently glancing into my eyes and rubbing her chapped nipples with ice-cubes (I may have fabricated the latter). Perhaps the story would have ended a little differently if she did do that. I wonder.
The issue kept cropping into conversation every so often, but I wasn’t budging. However, I did offer my assistance, by offering to view some properties with her. Unfortunately, she wasn’t too keen on that idea as she didn’t think it was any consolation. I think her exact words were, “I don’t need fucking help looking at properties; anyone can do that, I can do that on my own. Just give me one of your rooms!” She had a point. The answer was still no. So I got off the hook of helping her find a room as well.
Ahh the joys of a healthy relationship. I know what you’re all wondering, “did she still put out?” The answer is, yes, of course.
So that’s my little story. There’s no real point or moral, just the mutters of a sexually active landlord that refuses to mix business with pleasure. Just wondering, as a landlord, would you let your property to a friend, family member or lover? Anyone have any positive/negative experience in this particular area?
I’m going to part with some words of wisdom. Wrap it up, before you smack it up.