There I was… laying down, pretty high, reading the new Hillary Clinton book, as my three people were “playing” in my dorm room. I looked up and just admired. This was college – a raging future political science major armed and ready with her #I’mStillWithHer book, a roommate and a boyfriend doing who knows what across the room, and a best guy friend sprawled across the floor, obviously mesmerized with a sports video on Instagram. I have no idea how these people became ~my people~ but they did and I am so thankful for that.
So, these were clearly the people that I turned to when I learned that I would not be able to live in the sorority house next year due to their inability to accommodate for my stupid amount of food allergies. Little did I know, however, that their guidance would result in what will probably be the weirdest year of my life – living with two men. Yes, next year it will be me, my roommate’s boyfriend / my friend, and my best friend who happens to also be a guy, living in an apartment together, and I’m honestly not exactly sure if it’ll end up being the best year of my life or the absolute worst.
My idealist side of me is pretty much thriving thinking about what next year will bring; I’m basically going to be Jessica Day from New Girl. While no, I’m never going to have bangs, wear big skirts and circular glasses, or be an adorable human being, I am going to be living with childish “young men” and that’s what counts, right? I’m going to be surrounded by my closest guy friends and have fun being an absolute idiot with them. I can’t wait for music to be blasting 24/7 (sorry neighbors) and football or basketball or baseball or somehow all of the above up on the TV, probably with Keeping Up With The Kardashians or The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills concealed on my laptop. It’d be a year of completely goofing around with my best friends, which is what my roommate and I call playing. They won’t admit it but, essentially, Saturdays are for the boys (and me).
Meanwhile, my realist side is shaking. It’s wondering why the hell I would ever think that boys are capable of being neat and relatively responsible. It’s warning me that it’s dangerous to live with someone for whom I’m unsure of my feelings. It’s reminding me that this whole situation is far from normal. But it’s fine, I’m fine, everything’s fine.
Who knows how this year will go? Will I still be reading about politics with my roommate and her boyfriend doing who knows what on the other side of the couch and my friend watching sports? Or will things get messy? I’m so anxious to see what next year holds for all of us, but I can almost guarantee it will be one of the most memorable years of my life. The worst that could happen is that I’ll be the unofficial, off-brand version of the cutest girl on TV.
Image courtesy of TV Guide