1st weekend

My first weekend in my current apartment was nearly two years ago. At the time, I wasn’t shocked but now that I look back at it I’m amazed I didn’t immediately start looking for a new place to live. There was a big sporting event going on and my new roommate went out with her boyfriend at the time and another friend who it turned out was one of her ex’s. In a previous post I referred to him as Francois, so I’ll stick with that name to avoid confusion.

I woke up Saturday morning to find Francois, in briefs and nothing else, passed out on the clic-clac in the main room. I wasn’t home when the roommate, her boyfriend and Francois left the previous night so semi-naked and unconscious was how I first “met” Francois. The roommate had left a note for me, which I didn’t see, explaining that Francois had a run-in with a drunk and violent guy the previous night. The encounter resulted in Francois getting hit, falling and hitting his head on the ground. Rather than taking him to a hospital, the roommate and boyfriend brought him back to our apartment. In her note she also mentioned that this was the first time something like this had happened and I shouldn’t be concerned. The funny thing is that I wasn’t concerned. Even though I didn’t see her note I didn’t even blink at walking out to Francois in his underwear in the main room. I just thought “oh, there’s an undressed guy I’ve never seen on the clic-clac”, got some breakfast and went about my day. It has to be a result of living in France, because I think my reaction would have been quite different a few years earlier...