My boyfriend and I have planned for a lot. We’ve talked about marriage, kids, and even the TikTok account we’ll create for our future dog. But moving into his childhood home indefinitely was never included in those discussions.
When my boyfriend and I noticed the empty shelves of toilet paper at CVS and heard the Los Angeles mayor’s official lockdown order because of COVID-19, we knew we had to figure out where to quarantine—and fast.
My apartment was out of the question (it’s crammed enough between my roommate, me, and her Springer Spaniel), and as much as I love my boyfriend’s roommates, his apartment is essentially a mini frat house with bottles of half-empty alcohol spread across the kitchen counter.
Luckily, my boyfriend’s dad offered their family house up in the San Fernando Valley to stay. Since his mom rides horses competitively, my boyfriend’s parents live in Palm Springs half the year so she can play polo. His dad explained, “You’ll have the house to yourselves.”
The idea didn’t seem like the worst—who wouldn’t want extra space, a pool ready for use, and a small putting green to practice non-existent golf skills? Under the circumstances, it felt like the closest thing my boyfriend and I would get to a quarantine vacation home.
So I packed up my weekender bag (… plus everything else I could shove into my boyfriend’s car), and we headed to our new bougie oasis.
The moment I walked into his house, I was basically transported to my boyfriend’s childhood. He had what looked like every one of his high school text books, plus all the Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings collections stacked onto his bookshelves. On his walls hung pictures of the ocean and an apple that he told me he painted in middle school. (I made a mental note that we would not birth the next Picasso).
Lined on the top of his cabinets were shiny red and green middle school participation basketball trophies. From where I stood, I could even see a single Mickey Mouse stuffed animal poking an ear out of his bedroom closet. “Wow,” I said, “It’s like this room hasn’t been touched since 2011.” He didn’t argue.
During our first day there, we got a lil frisky and were making out on his bed when I abruptly stopped. “I’m sorry but those rabbit plushies on your closet shelf are freaking me out. They’re staring into my soul. Why do you have them?” He laughed, said he didn’t know, and closed the closet door. We continued to make out, but I still have no explanation for the fully clothed bunnies—and I want answers.
Then, as if the fact that my boyfriend’s room could be the setting for Toy Story 5 wasn’t bad enough, his mom unexpectedly texted him: “I’ll be at the house in a couple of hours.” Turns out, she was making a four-day pit stop because one of her horses was at a barn nearby.
Had I had known she was coming, I would’ve packed more than old band tees and sweatpants. The most casual thing I’ve seen her in is dark jeans, and admittedly, I was worried my Free People sweats with holes weren’t, uh, up to par with her lavish lifestyle. So, I hid upstairs under the guise that I was “working” the majority of the time she was chillin’ in the house.
But a couple days into my boyfriend’s mom being here, I felt ~extra~ aroused by his high school tennis photos lining the walls (is that weird?), so I sent him a quick little sext while he was downstairs in the living room.
“Want to 🍆👌?” I said. He replied, “I don’t feel comfortable having sex while my mom is here.” And… fair. And that was the end of that discussion. And my orgasms. I even tried masturbating later, but that didn’t work either.
So, this far into my “quarantine vacation,” I was essentially cockblocked by my boyfriend’s mother and all his Mickey Mouse stuffed animals. Cool cool cool.
Then, the next day I thought I’d blow off some pent up sexual energy by finally giving TikTok a try. I set up my phone on the windowsill in the bonus room (since my boyfriend refused to help me film because he cares more about video games than my TikTok dreams). And just as I leaned over to twerk my butt out, his mom walked into the room—and when I say she “walked into the room” I mean that she stood in the doorway waiting for me to finish.
I didn’t even notice her until the recording stopped. Her face was a mixture of intrigue and confusion while she gave an awkward light clap. I laughed and tried to be confident while I said “Thanks” but, needless to say, I was mortified. After she grabbed the vacuum she came in for, I retreated back to my sanctuary with the stuffed-bunnies.
So, yeah, you could say things are weird AF right now. I’m so horny that my boyfriend’s middle school haircut (which was essentially a bowl cut) is making me feel some type of way. And I truly thought this would be a sanctuary for me and my boyfriend to have some much needed ~alone~ time, but nope.
The only good thing is that this isn’t forever. I’m confident that one day, one way, we will return to my abode where we can have sex without voyeuristic stuffed animals watching every lil thing. For now, there’s just not much of an alternative. And I guess I can live with that. If I must.