Until now, Daniel is the only person I’ve lived with (other than my parents, obv). People are often surprised to hear I didn’t do the housemate thing in college.
As an only child who had a choice in college, I knew then that having a roommate or living in a house full of people wasn’t for me. I attended a college that was primarily a commuter college so it wasn’t too hard to avoid this. I know my dad was afraid I was missing out on in important experience. And he was probably right.
I may have missed out on a “right of passage” but I feel I’ve collected enough experiences in the world to make up for that. When I was younger I was afraid to venture out much. Risk-aware is the nice way to put it. Not so much any more.
Anywho, back to life as an adult with housemates. As an only child, I gave those roommate horror stories a lot of consideration and decided it wasn’t for me.
I spent the first year of college commuting and it worked well. After that year I got an apartment of my own near campus. I loved living by myself. I could set my own schedule, not worry about being a nuisance to a sleeping roommate, etc.
But now I’m a 30-something living with 5 housemates. And I love it. Being in a house full of adults who are friendly, ask about your day, and then go about their lives is pretty great.
My semester abroad is a bit late. I have housemates in my 30s. I know I’m doing things out of order. But it’s better that way I promise.
My life looks more like the photo above than below. So I think I’m doing it right.
Also, searching for “bad roommate” pictures is just fun….