The boys who live with me and pull my hair

One of the best things about having two 27-year-old male housemates is that they sometimes walk from the shower to their bedrooms wearing only a towel.

I’m lying. I’ve never seen either of them do that, and frankly, I’d be a little creeped out if I did.

Though I joke about my little male harem, our relationship is definitely more brother/sister than Charlie Sheen/porn star. In fact, one of the things I love best about “the boys” is how completely oblivious they are to me.

It keeps me humble.

Several weeks ago, one of the housemates stomped in after having dinner with his parents visiting from Chicago.

“My mom thinks you’re famous,” he muttered. “She wants your autograph, and now I have to go buy your book so she can send it to my grandma. What the hell is your book called?”

I glanced from the giant stack of Making Waves bookmarks on the kitchen counter to the assortment of Making Waves notecards on my desk. Then I toed aside the big, open box of Making Waves author copies in the foyer.

“Let me write that down for you,” I said.

So he headed off to Barnes and Noble and returned with my book and a very nice bottle of Pinot Noir from his mother. “How the hell did she know you like wine?” he asked.

“Everyone knows I like wine,” I admitted as I signed a book for his grandmother (who later sent me a delightful thank you note).

Another time I decided I wanted a photo of me being dragged by the hair to accompany my final Debutante Ball blog post. A friend offered to snap the picture and approached one of the housemates to assist.

“Would you mind grabbing Tawna by the hair and pretending to drag her out the door while I take a picture?” he asked.

The housemate shrugged. “Sure, as long as you hurry up,” he said. “I don’t want to miss the sunset.”

The phrase, “what for?” never crossed his lips.

Not that any explanation beginning, “there’s this blog…” would have been met with anything but a blank stare.

Both housemates have been called upon to draw blog contest winners at one time or another. Despite me informing them on multiple occasions that I mention them sometimes (like here or here or here or here or here), they always look a little mystified when I say anything about the blog

“Do people read it?” one of them asked in a rare moment of faked interest.

“Er, sometimes.”

“And I’m in it?”

“Well, that’s not all it’s about,” I started to explain.

“Bummer. People would probably like that.”

Indeed, they would. Maybe we should consider changing up the blog so it’s all housemates, all the time?

Or maybe I’ll just lurk in the hall until the opportunity presents itself to snap one of those towel photos.