Ready to break free from living with my parents as I inched towards my mid-twenties, I snagged an unbelievable deal for a room for a couple hundred a month. A man by the name of Dane owned a house, but he was renting out the guest room to generate some additional income. My part-time job at the gym’s front desk did not allow me to be picky with my living accommodations, so I signed immediately.

Dane was just a hair under thirty. Stay at home web designer by day, slob by night. His lifestyle—if I may be so kind to call it such a thing—took me for a ride into disgust. Unwashed dishes. Toenails on the carpets. A body odor that reminded me of a music festival porta potty. The man did not care in the slightest what I thought of him.

“Charlie, you’re putting too much pressure on yourself, my man. Free yourself from societal expectations. We don’t have to judge each other. We are who we are. And that’s that.”

Dane’s gravy sweat drizzled down his forehead as he sat next to me on the couch and tried to rationalize his philosophy on life. I turned up the volume on my headphones and returned my attention to my laptop screen.

I tried to be as nice as one could be in such an uncomfortable situation. Never yelling at him, I avoided conflict. I couldn’t handle another wildly terrible view on how appearances are meaningless. Around this time though, I was dating a woman named Allison. And on the first night she came over to hangout, Dane barged in to interrupt us with some insufferable small talk.

Allison and I were watching a movie on the couch when in walks Dane, blocking the screen.

“Allison, if Charlie was not in the picture, do you think you would ever consider dating a guy like myself?”

Dane scratched his head nervously, and my ears went deaf, oblivious to Allison’s response, as my eyes looked on in horror at the malt ball sized dandruff that plummeted into the dip on the coffee table. Whatever Allison had said was enough to sour Dane’s face. He retreated into his room while Allison scooted closer to me.

Allison never came over to that house again; she was traumatized. I should have been smart and moved back in with my folks, but it was almost like Dane’s behavior had somehow seeped into me. I found myself losing control of the tidy, clean man I once was. I stopped caring.

“You are free now, Charlie. Don’t give into the urges. Don’t listen to them. I’m here. We’re here—together.”

Dane and I have been living together for months. Allison dumped me. I don’t even care. I’m on my second pint of cookie dough, and Dane promised to teach me how to throat-sing tonight. I love my life.