All of the women in Marin County eat their young

That's an acutal line from an actual song I heard a homeless man singing on the ferry dock in Sausalito.
This story takes place in that very harbor.

Sausalito, CA is a beautiful little town who's residents are consistently ready to tell you is "much more European and progressive than the rest of the country".  It sits right on San Francisco bay, looks directly across to the city, Angel Island, and Alcatraz.  Just a hop over the Golden Gate Bridge, it is peppered with adorable cafe's and quaint shops that sell overpriced pastries and surrealistic sculptures of anthropomorphized animals.  Oh, and tourists.
They also do not have any public transportation into the city, because then the poor people would come over.  But they won't tell you that.
There is exactly one homeless person in Sausalito, and his name is Bo, and everyone knows him.  They keep him around for the same reason they hire hispanic nannies, listen to hip hop (not rap! fuck you, that's too mainstream.), and eat with chopsticks. 

But this is the Bay Area!  Home of dissention from the man and all that other bullshit hippies stood for!  Enter Gate 6, the houseboat cooperative(you read that right) where all the real hippies live.  Of course, I wanted to live there.
So I met a dude who lived on a sailboat in Sausalito Harbor.  Not quite gate 6, but after nearly a month without a consistent or guaranteed place to sleep, my hair was looking particularly terrible and my pants smelled like peanut butter and old cheese.  $400 a month for a bed on a sailboat?!  I'll take it!

Jerry was in his early 50s, and seemed nice enough.  Mostly, he was willing to let me sleep in a bed, consistently, every night, for really cheap.  I would have a shelf and full access to the microwave for food, and a half of a cabinet for my belongings.  I would get the captains cabin, and he would sleep in the sitting area.  The bed came with a parking spot and a key to the shower/bathroom which was on the dock.
Also, I couldn't tell anyone where I lived because no one was supposed to be living on the boats, but he had an arrangement with the dockmaster.
Oh, yeah, that all sounds totally reasonable.  When can I move in?

I paid Jerry a $100 cash deposit (I was to pay him the rest in the morning when the bank opened, as he would only take cash and not a check- no red flag there) and we sat on deck of the sailboat for a few hours while he regaled me with stories of his youth, and I told him all of my youthful goals and aspirations.  Jerry then took me on a walking tour of Sausalito, introducing me to various notable locals.  Jerry seemed legit, and I was mostly excited about sleeping in a real bed that night!  With sheets that I didn't have to return in the morning!  And I would be guaranteed a bed for the next night!  And the one after that!

I left Jerry to treat myself to a celebratory brew on Rodeo Beach.

As I mulled over my exciting new living prospect, I realized... I was going to be essentially sharing a room and all of my living space with a 50 some year old sailor who would only take rent payments in cash.  Also, I was living there illegaly, as was he.  Also, it was a 400 square foot sailboat.  Also, it was a sailboat.

I don't watch a whole lot of slasher porn, but I feel like that's a pretty good beggining. 

*ring ring* "Hi, Marin Headlands hostel?  Do you have an open bed tonight?"

I called Jerry and told him that I found a more suitable housing prospect (LIE), but that I enjoyed his company and would love to meet for tea or a glass of wine in Sausalito some day.  And also that I would like my $100 deposit back. 
Shockingly, I never heard back from Jerry

When I got into my car to go to work the next morning, there was a note attached:

"Lady from Miami with the big eyebrows,
I am sorry I don't remember your name.  Are you still looking for a place to live?  I am looking to rent a room in my house in Mill Valley.  I want to rent to someone with a Mini Cooper.
<phone number>, Mario"
Draw your own conclusions to that gem.