This British lady has a long list of commandments she posted online for a roommate. I’m glad she got it out of the way early because like, why waste everyone’s time in the first place? I actually respect the fuck out of this move. You have to have high standards, shoot for the stars, especially in the roommate department. Living with another human being is the most stressful, dramatic experience, and your life better fit perfectly in sync with mine or else.
Maybe I’ve just had bad roommates but I hate to say I actually agreed with her on most of these points. I may be moving to London soon…
- If I work from home Monday-Friday, you better not fucking be there. The more alone time the better. I want to watch 8 hours of Maury and Ellen, maybe a Bar Rescue marathon, and I don’t want to be judged. The point of a husband roommate is to share the financial responsibilities of a home, but not the physical space.
- Don’t slam the doors. Reasonable request. People who knock everything over and are loud walkers are not the type of people I want to live with.
- The volume should always be at a level where a spontaneous nap could occur. That’s what I got from that requirement. So far, check, check, check.
- Be friendly, but let’s not be friends. Sometimes friendships are ruined by living with someone. Don’t be a bitch but like, don’t borrow my clothes.
- I’ve encountered my first problem with this list. If the only time I leave my room all day is to go to the fridge or to answer the door for a delivery, there needs to be an unspoken roommate law. If you want to go out and have a life, that’s your prerogative. I’m staying in. Sounds like this girl just wants more time in the apartment alone though, and I’m pretty sure there’s only allowed to be one homebody per household.
- I often feel like having a roommate would help me be cleaner. I love living alone. I’ve lived alone since I graduated from college, and I love living in my own filth. I love having “the chair(s)” and 29 seltzer cans scattered across my room a quarter of the way full. I’m not dirty I’m just messy, but the social pressures of having a roommate might help me change my ways. Doesn’t seem worth it though, so I’ll probably live alone forever.
- “If all you eat is canned beans and cooked lentils and drink beer, you’re not my kind of flatmate. I need someone a little more sophisticated here.” PREEEEAAACH GIRLLLL! Come on, mix in a charcuterie board every once in a while. There is absolutely nothing unreasonable about this request. Someone who eats beans and lentils and drinks beer smells disgusting. Imagine sharing a bathroom with someone who eats a big bowl of steaming lentils right before your nighttime shower? Absofuckinglutely not.
- No cooking before 8:30am and after 11. I do not think I have done that once in my apartment to begin with. Can’t be baking honey glazed salmon after midnight on a Tuesday; that’s pre-crime. And unless you’re making me a fresh iced coffee for when I wake up, no nutri-bullets before 9am. No Emeril Lagasse’s allowed, mix in a lean cuisine,
- Friendly reminder to flush the toilet.
- Now this rule I couldn’t agree with more. I shared one single room with 2 other roommates in college and both of them had boyfriends and I did not (shockingly). One of the boyfriends had a coveted single room, where they could have fucked like college kids in peace. But nope, the 4-5 of us slept together, in one shoebox sized room 3+ nights a week. I had to go to the bathroom to take my bra off. One of our walls was just a huge mirror, so I had to watch them make out in the reflection in front of me all night. It was the worst experience of my life that I don’t wish upon my worst enemy. Who has that many friends anyways?
- There is no 11. This girl isn’t perfect, I see right through it. I think what she meant to say at 11 was no ‘live laugh love’ paraphernalia and no pumpkin spice candles. Not in this house.
- We don’t know the age of this girl, which is an important factor on this one. Sure when I was 21, I’d come home blackout plenty of nights; throw my keys haphazardly on the counter, eat a few Kraft singles, wipe my makeup off, brush my teeth quietly and go to bed in enough time to get a good nights sleep. At 30, I have a bottle of wine on the couch and crawl into bed at 9:30. Watching a roommate drink more than 1 night in a row would give me second hand exhaustion. Plus, I held more than my fair share of hair back in my day to be worrying about you sleeping on your back. I have enough anxiety.
Overall the only issue I have with this list is the having a life part. A home is supposed to be a place of solace, where there is no judgement, no responsibility, and no pants required. Why would anyone want to leave that?