Five housemates, thin doors, and every notification switched off
- Looking for
- somebody patient about a phone that is never really private
- Experience
- Three years, one dynamic of a year, ended amicably.
- Around
- the inner city, Sydney
There are six of us in this house and the doors are the kind you could push open with a shoulder. So the app has no badge, no sound, no preview on the lock screen, and it sits in a folder behind two taps with a name that means nothing. That is not drama. It is what living with five people you did not choose actually requires.
Twenty nine, the inner city, submissive, three years in. The practical result is that I answer in bursts, usually late, usually with the phone flat against my leg, and I have been read as evasive more than once. One man decided I must be married. I am not married. I share a bathroom with strangers, one of whom reads over shoulders on the tram without noticing that he does it, and I would like to keep the rest of my life mine.
What I want is a dominant who understands that discretion is sometimes just architecture. Standing expectations I can meet in a shared house. Things I do rather than things I send. A check in that does not require me to be alone in a room, because I am almost never alone in a room.
I am here for a long arrangement rather than a night. I am good at routine and bad at improvising.
Not looking for anybody who needs a reply within the hour. Not looking to be asked for photographs I would have to take in a house with five other adults in it. And not looking for a person who reads caution as a sign that I am hiding somebody.