Hmmm . . . where to begin?
I suppose I can’t talk about my wife, eh? Prior to her I lived alone for a decade. That is because I learned that having a roommate sucked. Oh, it’s not that I necessarily had the Pacific Heights experience, but I had some interesting events.
I attended boarding school. Each year I had a roommate. My IV Form year was pretty good, although a whole bunch of us decided to room together so we could have a play room elsewhere. Yeah, that wasn’t such a wonderful idea.
In college I had a good roommate my Freshman year. That was until Mr. GQ moved in. This man had all sorts of apparatus for his encounters. Ah, Dave. Such memories.
The following two years was a good situation with my buddy Craig. FWIW, I was an excellent roommate. Everyone I lived with earned a 4.0 while I was the roommate. 😉
Once Craig was graduated, I was able to secure a single dorm room. That was the best year of college.
Then I moved to Boston, whereupon I had two roommates. That fact was problematic as I thought I was moving to Boston to live with one person. So things got off to a rocky start and continued that way until I moved out six months later. We were young and were at each others’ throats. There’s only one person in this world that I know of who will not speak to me, and it was this roommate. That she brought a third person into the fold and then acted as though I was wrong to be miffed at the situation was just the start. The pettiness that ensued was horrendous. I learned later that she thought I was jealous of the loser guy she hooked up with. I chuckled at that. What she didn’t know was that I felt sorry for her as she changed radically during that time. Yup, I felt sorry for a friend.
Anyhow, after that I moved in with one of my best friends for 18 months. All was good there. Then we went our own ways. That had me living with my then girlfriend. That was fun while it lasted, although we got a house with her sister and boyfriend (who became husband). What a strange situation that became. When one begins to note his roommates do not brush their teeth, it is time to move on . . . and I did.
That was to my final roommate situation: three complete strangers. We had a house together. One guy was about eight years older than I. He was an accountant for a medical firm. Very 9-5. Then there was the girl from the mid-west. It was her first time on her own. She moved to the big city and partied constantly. Then there was Ford. He had four different girls’ names tattooed to his right arm. All were prison tats. He couldn’t hold a job the entire year+ we lived together. We all got along, but I knew my time in Boston was coming to an end. They were all slobs.
Until my wife, I never had another roommate. God forbid if anything ever happened, I would not ever have another roommate. I am set in my ways and work better doing it my way. Of course, that is the efficient and effective way. 😉