I'm the Weekend Boyfriend
Papi, am I asking for too much here?
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¡Hola Papi!
Here’s the story. Two middle-aged men are dating. One of them (me) feels like his boyfriend has only allotted a tiny portion of his time and space (literally) to the relationship.
We hang out on the weekend. It's lovely. We watch movies and play video games. I can spend all day with him and not grow tired of his "I have four degrees but I'm pretending to be a himbo" shtick. But Sunday ends, and so does our dynamic. Monday and Friday are dinner with his conservative immigrant parents (I’m not invited; he's closeted), Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday are potential hangouts after work, but more often it’s sports practice for one of the teams he's on.
A year into our relationship (which has now passed the two year mark), my apartment flooded. I brought a suitcase to live with him in his one-bedroom apartment for a few months. I was happy to have a place to stay, but it put some strain on him. He'd never really lived with other adults. His parents live ten minutes away and his mom still does meal prep for him!
It was maybe a shock. He did eventually allocate half of the top shelf in his closet—which he cannot reach—to me. When I'm at his apartment, I look around and see tons of pictures of his family: him, his older brother, his older brother's boyfriend of over ten years, his parents. I wonder if there is room for me. I found a new place, but only after some tense conversations. .
He said his place was too small and living with other people was hard. I countered that I understood, but if living together was too stressful, then what would our future look like? I told him I was starting to feel like the weekend boyfriend. He told me he was moving into a new condo next year, a two-bedroom, and that we could take that as a chance to introduce me to his parents as his “roommate.”
A plan! But as my current lease crept up on its expiration date, I realized: his parents are putting up the money for the place, and have expectations to use the other room (to visit? to live?). Beneath this is my boyfriend not wanting to rock the boat. But in not doing anything, I feel he has sort of strung me along in the nicest and cruelest way possible.
I haven't nagged him to come out to his parents. I think that's his battle, and regardless, my experience of calling and coming out to my dad while he was stuck in traffic on the 405 is probably not a reproducible model. Our relationships shouldn't be contingent on plans to move in together, but at some level this is what I want, and I'm looking at the prospect of it never being possible. I feel that whatever sliver of his temporal and physical space I'm taking up now is about to be further eroded by his parents being even more around.
So, what to do? Break up? Talk it out—knowing that he's not going to be able to appease everyone? Settle for the casual neglect that I grew up knowing too well? Help!
Signed,
Weekend Boyfriend
Hey there, WB!
Wait a second. Computer, enhance this sentence: “When I'm at his apartment, I look around and see tons of pictures of his family: him, his older brother, his older brother's boyfriend of over ten years…”
Do you mean to tell me that his older brother has a boyfriend of over ten years? Is his older brother out to his parents while you’re creeping around in the rafters like the Phantom of the Opera? I mean, sure, everyone has their own coming out journey, but at the same time… girl…
Alright, taking off my stylish, herringbone, wool blend Sherlock Holmes hat now. I’m sure there are redeeming traits to this guy and to the relationship, but I, for one, could not be middle-aged and running the emotional gauntlet for the coveted title of “roommate.” I happily left all that in college, where I was an excellent roommate to half the Lambda Chi Alpha fraternity.