I have spent the last few days inside 6,214 messages of goodnight moons, unanswered questions and one grown woman slowly negotiating herself down from girlfriend to permitted visitor in her own flat.
You are not dating. You are not even in a situationship. You are a fully furnished rental unit with a lovesick landlord, and the tenantβs entire contribution to the household is a toothbrush he asked you not to throw away.
Letβs go through the tenancy agreement.
Who Was Doing What in This Flat
Shalini: The Unpaid Girlfriend Intern
You have done four months of a girlfriendβs job on an internβs contract, and the company has not even given you a lanyard. You remember his motherβs birthday, you track his performance review like it is your own bonus, and you made him a Netflix profile called K before he had agreed to watch anything with you, which is the streaming version of buying a wedding dress for a first date. Then there is your signature move, the calm, unbothered patience of a woman sprinting in heels:


