No one wants to listen to an only child talk about his or her problems. It’s a fact. Everyone has this idea that only children have the best lives. It may be true that we don’t have to deal with siblings, we always have our own room, and we never have to share our family’s love, attention, or most importantly money, but you all forget one crucial thing. We are the sole supporters of our family’s hopes and dreams. How I am supposed to singlehandedly get good grades, graduate from college, earn a high-paying job, get married, and have children? I have to break the bad news to my parents and ask them to list their top three priorities. They can’t have it all.
Even though I know you all couldn’t care less about my only child problems, I’m just going to go down this road of complaining and rant anyways. Do you want to know the number one nightmare that haunts all only children? Roommates.
Moving away from home to college was a huge culture shock for me. It was a major adjustment to wear shoes in the shower, brush my teeth in front of strangers, say “cheese” pizza instead of plain (I miss New York), and learn how to live with another human being in my room. For 19 years, I have always had a room to myself. How am I supposed to peacefully coexist with another person in my living quarters?
I have to admit. I’m still getting used to living with a roommate even into my second year at Brown. I’m just not used to someone breathing in the same room as me at all the time. But actually though. I’ve woken up several times in the middle of the night confused and slightly frightened as to why I hear someone else breathing. It’s pretty scary.
There is also this thing called “good roommate etiquette” that I have to practice now. I can’t blast music whenever I want to. I never have enough alone time to roll around in self-pity. And I have to wear pants to bed every night. This is absolutely unacceptable. Why must I submit myself to the tyranny of pants? I desperately miss the freedom to be naked in the privacy of my own room.
One thing I was completely unprepared for was the passive-aggression. Fighting over the light switch. Turning up the heat. Opening the windows. Lowering the heat. Closing the windows. Aggressively shifting in bed to say you are unhappy about being woken up. Sighing loudly to also convey this message. Oh how I miss the days when I did not have to get dressed in absolute darkness or make sure that I opened or closed the door quietly. My glory days are over. How can I possibly survive to my junior year, when I am basically guaranteed my own single? Oh, woe is me.
If college has taught me one thing, it’s that living with another human being is hard. Guess it’s time to tell my parents to cross marriage off their bucket list for me. And they should also be prepared for a grandpuppy instead of grandchildren. Get those dog treats ready.
Image via.
