Purpose

To be honest I don't care if anyone reads this. If someone reads it that's great and I would be flattered, if not it won't hurt me.  I just really have exhausted everyone around me with my current frustrations and just need somewhere new to vent.

Let me explain my current circumstance.  I'm a junior at a small university with only three more semesters to go.  I've been with my boyfriend, DAS, for three years.  For my first two years of college I had to live in the dorms, it's a requirement to get to know other students.  I did my time and for anyone who has lived in a dorm you know how brutal it can be.  My boyfriend and I decided to live together.  I've heard it all, no criticism about our situation can hurt me.   We are 20 and 22 and not married, sue us for rather living together instead of with friends who party all night.  My boyfriend tried living with a friend of his which turned out to be a complete disaster.  For the past year and a half he's been on the hunt for a condo or townhouse.

Of course being a woman I felt the need to have some say in what he would be making a life changing purchase of.  So we began the house hunt.  Which was terrible and left us hopeless.  We saw dirty, destroyed, and sketchy properties.  After weeks of looking we finally found a decent condo.  It was the perfect size, location, great kitchen, and in a great school district (perfect for resale).  DAS made an offer and the waiting game began.  Short sales we learned are not so "short."  After 8 months of waiting the bank turned down the offer and raised the asking price.

Then my boyfriend's mom got the genius idea we should look at foreclosed homes.  Worst idea EVER.  So after weeks of looking again we saw our dream starter home.  A townhouse, perfect location, 2 stories, and move-in ready.  The catch..short sale.  So DAS made an offer, that was 5 months ago. Still waiting.

That leads me to the circumstance...since February my boyfriend has been living in his mom's dining room.  I moved in in August.  Amenities include french doors with waxed paper curtains, no closet, and 2 outlets.  To top it off we have become live in babysitter to a 15-year-old and I've become chef to the whole house because good ole' mom doesn't cook.  I'll leave it at that for tonight but the tales are just beginning.