The First Roommate
No one forgets their first roommate. Even though they’re not the roommate that lasts, they’ll always have a special place in your heart. Usually, they’re your friend from high school that follows you to college. They probably love musical theater and carry around a box of Apples to Apples cards ‘just in case.’ They’re kind of a dork, but you love them, and you’re so freaking psyched to live together until you actually do. Maybe they get frighteningly aggressive about ‘roommate night’. Maybe you mistook their debilitating coke habit for childlike exuberance. It happens! Either way, get ready for cold, icy silences, and loud passive aggressive dishwashing while you fantasize about getting your security deposit back. Ah, how soon first roomie love turns to first roomie hate!
The Friend of a Friend
So you’ve moved on. It’s time for a new roommate. You’ve been hurt before, and you want to make sure you’re not making the same mistakes again. So you’ll take up with a friend of your friend. You don’t know them, but you know someone who knows them and that’s good enough for you! This is how you end up living with your coworker’s ex-brother-in-law Brandon, or your friend’s half-cousin Emily Grace Lululemon II. It’s fine, until you learn that they raise ball pythons in their room, or that they’re part of a religious sect that doesn’t believe in paying rent, or both. Fun!
The First Craigslister
You’ve exhausted all your IRL options and have learned that your friends have terrible taste in friends. Sure, Brandon was kind of chill, but he’s wanted for a DUI in his home state and has court. Your prospects are looking grim. So you do what any modern cosmopolitan lady does and turn to the internet. Sure, you’re a little nervous about living with a stranger, but the idea of having natural boundaries and distance makes you want to cream your pants (don’t post that part on Craigslist). So you get yourself a joyless, utilitarian roommate situation. You smile in the morning and shut the door whenever you’re home. When they eventually move out you cry for days. This was the one that got away.
By now you’re a jaded snake oil salesman that frequently lures young people to New York City. You might only be in your twenties, but you have the spirit and demeanor of a gruff, matronly lady that runs a boardinghouse in the 1930s. You’re on some dark, old-timey NYC shit, and it’s powerful and frightening. You don’t even bat an eye when your 18-year old roommate tells you that they ran away from their parents’ house to make it on Broadway and they put all their life savings toward their first month’s rent and security deposit. You just smile and say, "Yeah! New York is great! I love it!’ behind cold, dead eyes while cashing their rent check.
They’ve been here all along. Right beside you through thick and thin. Whenever you needed a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on, they’ve always been there for you. That’s because that person is you. You’ve scraped enough side hustles together and it’s paid off. You finally have enough money to live by yourself! Those roommates broke you and now you’re going to sink all your cash into a tiny studio apartment. You’re going to eat ramen until your untimely death by eating too much ramen, but it’ll be worth it! You like putting your stuff where ever the fuck you want to, running around naked, eating fistfuls of shredded cheese while listening to murder podcasts, and drunk tweeting by yourself. You’re going to buy blackout curtains for the whole apartment. You’ll watch British baking shows every day on full volume. Congratulations on living alone, time to forget all these jabronis.