I’m at a stage in my life where a good portion of my girlfriends are either living with their significant others, or they are thinking about living with their significant others. I live with a boy. Have for some time. We are engaged. I like him a lot. See? And to be honest with you, living with a boy is really awesome, and I don’t have many Bad Things to say about it. It does however come with a few, small downsides. And I’m doing a Good Things: Living With a Boy on Friday, so relax.
Tom comes home from work.
Tom goes into the living room.
Tom moves into the bedroom.
Tom goes into the office.
Molly comes home from work.
-Boys have gas, and when you live with them for awhile, they stop caring whether you’re around or not.
-They could give a rat’s ass about the tidiness of the residence. Training your boyfroommate to care about the tidiness of said residence takes years and years of gentle reminders, passive-aggression, and just a dash of manipulation.
-While living with a boy, you will learn that males are babies when they get sick. They don’t know what to do with themselves. It’s like a runny nose is the worst thing in the world and they might as well just be dead.
-I like sports. I love basketball. I like baseball. I’ll watch the occasional hockey game, and I’ll watch the Super Bowl. Tom likes every sport known to man. It’s on, he’s watching it. NASCAR. The Masters. Cycling. Pointless. Excruciating. Awful.
-I rarely have problems with the stereotypical leaving-the-toilet-seat-up thing, but I have learned that boys simply refuse to replace the toilet paper. It’s surprisingly infuriating.
-His friends may learn to take advantage of his living situation. I’ve noticed an increase in the amount of times certain friends stay past dinner time, always resulting in me asking if they want dinner, and them immediately replying “Yes.” Like they’ve been waiting for it.