People weren’t made to be isolated creatures. We like talking, talking loudly, going to places, eating, laughing, eating some more and basically hanging out with other people. We were made to make up obnoxious words to the tune of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” with our friends. We were made to meet and communicate with people. And supposedly people were made to cohabitate. This I am not so sure of.
You hear the horror stories about fights over closet space, schedule conflicts, and just the general unpleasantness that comes with having to share one bathroom. But this is the price we pay for the sake of a higher education. I’d live with Pig Pen as long as he paid rent.
I, along with probably everyone else since the caveman times (seriously, talk abut cramped quarters) have had some sort of roommate experience. Of course, my experience never culminated into the “best friend” scenario. Although that could change in the future, I doubt my children will ever have to hear about the shenanigans I got up to with my “roommate from college”. I also won’t let their father drag out how he met me into a nine year spiel, but that’s a different column.
However, as unexciting my roommates have or have not been, I have learned a lot from each of them. I learned about different paths in life. I learned that sometimes the best roommate is the one how is hardly there at all.
Sometimes it’s like an episode of “Big Brother” and you realize that some people should not live together, even for a lot of cash (dignity, anyone?). Sometimes it’s your friends that make the best roommates, sometimes it’s a significant other (haven’t tried that yet and I don’t plan to until I can install some sort of escape pod to the side of the apartment) and sometimes it’s a total stranger that hopefully becomes someone you end up kind of liking, at least a little bit.
Or at least someone you know won’t hack out your liver while you’re asleep.
