By Peter Boylan
Advertiser Staff Writer

After four months of free food, weekly laundry service and loads of unsolicited advice, I finally moved out of my parents' house.

To label the experience liberating would be like saying Hawai'i has a passing interest in "American Idol."

My cousin, the wise, generous, Honolulu attorney that he is, granted me sanctuary in his two-bedroom apartment on Curtis Street, about a half-block from the newsroom. No more morning commutes on H-1, I am now within walking distance of my work station.

As I was shelving books two days after my move, I began to feel that once again, I was independent, a man alone against the world.

Then I opened my closet, and a different reality asserted itself. There atop my dresser was a purple bottle of raspberry-scented body spray, a stick of Secret, the deodorant strong enough for a man, but pH-balanced for a woman, and a two-piece Roxy bathing suit.

Sweat began to bead on my brow as I rushed to the bathroom and tossed aside the shower curtain.

Sure enough, there, next to the soap and shampoo, was my girlfriend's pink razor.

Darn it, I thought, as I limped back to my bedroom. One piece of my manhood reclaimed, another lost. How did she do that? How did she manage to mark her territory 72 hours after I got the keys?

"It will just make it a lot easier for me," she said, batting innocent, doe-like eyes.

Easier for her, I'm sure. But the next thing you know, I'll have flora on my shower curtains, my bed will be made and I'll own hand towels.

It's not right.

As a 24-year-old man, it is important to maintain single status, even if it is nothing more than a legal description of your current state. Sure, I have a girlfriend, and she is a darling, but being defined by that fact is frightening.

Dudes need a little bit of elbow room in a relationship, that speck of space where you can beat your chest and run with unbridled vigor.

In addition to installing the feminine toiletries, she also has won the favor of my 90-year-old grandfather, Venancio.

Venancio is a proud Filipino man from Ilocos Norte who came to Hawai'i to work on the sugar plantations. He is my idol: a tough, hard-nosed workaholic who once told me the reason he never smiled in a picture is because life is hard, and it was going to keep coming at him after the shot was snapped.

I listen to him more than I listen to anyone. If a girl garners an endorsement from him, she has all but sewed up the nomination.

My girlfriend, I suspect, knows this. So at a family gathering, I found her sitting next to Venancio, handing him cake and laughing at his jokes.

Venancio, who has a history of heart ailments, was taken to the hospital after complaining of chest pains not long after that day. As I sat next to his bed and watched National Geographic Explorer with him, he told me he thinks she is lovely, and that I should do right by her.

He then asked me to call her so he could tell her so. After a nauseating exchange of pleasantries, my grandfather, ever the Pinoy Playboy, told her, "We love you so much, you know. You are the best girl Peter has ever brought around."

After hanging up, he continued to tell me that he likes her better then my last girlfriend, a woman I was with for more than two years.

So yes, I love the new place and I love the cheap rent, but even as I distance myself geographically from my parents, I dive deeper into a relationship.

As my grandfather said, life just keeps coming.

Reach Peter Boylan at 535-8110 or pboylan@honoluluadvertiser.com.