Roommates: Or, How I Learned to Live Peacefully With Others and With Myself

After reading this post over at Lemon Gloria, it made me think about my roommate situations over the years... And how I was probably not the most fun person to live with. I know my faults... now. One of the most intrusive is that I have a really, really, really difficult time admitting when I'm wrong. And the passive aggressiveness? There was lots of that. Lots. There are more faults. Many more. But let's just focus on these, shall we? There's only so much self-deprecation a girl can take in a day.

My freshman year of college, I lived with someone from high school. I really liked her. She was a good friend and a good person. Unfortunately, she had some personal demons hidden away. Couple those with her being an only child, and living in a cell block with someone else must have been a bit of a shock. THEN, add on the fact that college - at an enormous university - is probably one of the biggest shocks of anyone's life, and what do you get? Tension. By the bucketloads. It came on quietly. There were some pretty big things going on in her life, and when I started to worry about her, my interference was not appreciated. She eventually moved out to a single room and then left the university entirely. I really hope that she's doing okay.

Sophomore year, the same thing happened. Still in the dorms, I signed up for a double room and went in blind. Lydia was super fun and outgoing, friends with everyone and always ready for something new. I was gone most weekends in the fall and we became accustomed to that arrangement. The winter semester was a completely different situation and we started butting heads. I honestly don't remember why, but we stopped communicating. Neither of us aired our grievances and our cohabitation became painful. And I know now that I shouldn't have let it get to that point.

When I moved to DC, I lived alone for a year. It was wonderful. I had my own space, my own things, my own messes. I worried about myself and no one else. But I was lonely. So very lonely. When I met Cat in grad school, we decided to move in together in the fall. It was fine at first, but then it turned almost overnight. She "borrowed" my car without asking, she ate my food and didn't replace it. She hated my friends and talked down to me. Out of the blue, she announced she was moving into a group house with friends from work and would be breaking our lease. I don't know what upset me more - her screwing me over and sticking me with a random person or that she didn't want to live with me anymore.

Maybe I really was that difficult.

Cat found Laura on craigslist. And we clicked. Immediately. She was fun and funny and had a weird, slightly twisted mind - like me! We shopped together, watched the same shows, and went to the same places. She was nice to my friends and they all really liked her. When she started dating a new guy, we didn't hang out as much anymore. Maybe that's where it turned a little sour. Maybe she got sick of me and my attitude. What I do know is that I should have been more honest about how I felt. It wasn't the guy, it was that we stopped being friends. And that's what really upset me. I missed her friendship. I missed her. I still miss her. She eventually moved out and I gained Jenny.

Jenny (and later) Jen were the two best roommates ever. They both helped me learn from my past roommate mistakes and open up. I stopped being passive aggressive (well, as much as you can when going cold turkey), and I started talking about the things that bothered me. And my relationships with both of them flourished. This made living together so much easier and so much better. And I'm still friends with them both. See? I learned.

Now that I'm on my own again, I do miss the companionship that one gains with roommates. But I love living alone. For right now, it's amazing. But I don't plan on having another roommate for a while. When it does happen, I'm thinking that it will be a roommate for life. With benefits.