Boundaries

"If we're going to be in a relationship," T. said the other day, "You're going to have to set some boundaries with your friend Max."

She was referring to Max's habit of entering my house unannounced, and helping himself to whatever he finds in my refrigerator, liquor cabinet, or media collection.

I agreed. Ever since I've known Max, I've been complaining about this myself. I've certainly made my feelings clear to Max as well, but he persists and I continue to tolerate.

I'm not sure why. Part of me relishes the "family feeling" of Max's familiarity. That is, he takes me for granted like a family member would, and somehow that makes me feel less alone. Part of me is chronically enraged by his free-wheeling, light-fingered ways as well, because it isn't exactly reciprocal: I certainly don't swing by his apartment and poke around.

So I started to lock the front door when I wasn't home. I'll admit I've been very haphazard about this, although I always lock the doors when I'm asleep. To friends alarmed by this lack of security, I often say the dogs -- which sound like the hounds of hell whenever anyone approaches the perimeter of my property -- would discourage intruders. Besides, what have I got to steal? My television weighs over 100 pounds. My CD player cost less than $50. I have no significant jewelry.

Within a couple of days, Max called to let me know my front door was locked, but fortunately he'd found an unlocked sliding door in back.

So I have started to lock all the doors and gave an extra set to T., in case I misplaced my own.

Anyway, last week around 10:30 pm, T. and I were sitting around after she'd spent a grueling day removing trash from her mom's basement, when Max burst in. He sailed past us into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk, then a large rum and coke.

"That's not my rum," I pointed out. "That's T.'s rum."

"Really?" said Max. He'd come over to ask me to help him set up a seller's account on ebay. I had the digital camera and the Paypal account; he'd give me 20% commission on anything he sold. I wasn't exactly enthusiastic, but I agreed to help.

Later Max said, "Your friend seemed to be in a bad mood that night."

Later T. said, "I like Max -- I really do -- he's funny and smart and interesting -- but he takes advantage of you. You need to work this out with him."