The real American Horror Story is having a roommate who ALSO plays the part of being your best friend. I say this with the utmost respect and sincerity because my roommate could potentially be reading this and I don’t have the energy to sleep with one eye open.
At first, living with your best friend is all fun and games and house parties and “OMFG, let's make breakfast.” In the beginning, it is grocery shopping together, getting ready together, and visiting hometowns together. You are attached at the hip and come as a packaged pair when others invite you to social gatherings. You start to act like one another and often find yourselves dressing alike because a.) you have rubbed off on each other or b.) your laundry got mixed up. It is a blessing, it is a dream, it is everything you had ever wished and hoped for.
And then, all of a sudden, slowly BUT surely, it becomes a series of the most unfortunate events. The dishes start piling up and it turns into this game to see who can ignore the filth the longest. Neither of you wants to take out the trash and the toilet paper holder is always naked. “Do you have the keys?” or “Can you take your clothes out of the dryer?” or “Your feet smell” are some of the few conversations you have. One of you always comes bursting in at 3:00 a.m., reeking of alcohol, and making the dumb decision to turn on every light in America while the other is trying to smother themselves with their pillow because, at the time, death seems more appealing than dealing with a drunk roommate. Do you see where this is going? Do you feel the pain emoting from my words?
All of the things I have listed are true but here’s the thing: having your best friend as your roommate is actually the most extraordinary experience. It is discussing relationship problems after having a glass of wine (which turns into a bottle). It is being able to run around the apartment naked with your razor burn and blemishes exposed. It is being able to come home, eat a pint of ice cream, and not be judged for it. When your best friend is your roommate, it is exactly like being married. Except instead of the rings, the white picket fences, and the fine china there are noise complaints, dirty wooden floors, and cups that you both stole from the bar across the street. You waste minutes trying to figure out which one of you is going to take on tasks like killing the bug or vacuuming the crumbs. It’s an endless cycle of internally screaming to yourself and trying to keep your composure at the same time.
So, with all of that being said, take some time today to tell your roommate how much you hate and love them at the same time. Tell them that even though their feet smell, they're too loud, and their hair is all over the bathroom floor, you still value their presence. Tell them that it makes you feel safe knowing that their bedroom is right across the hall and living with them is like having your own personal therapist. What would you do without them? Seriously. Think. Because I bet when you think about waking up to an empty apartment without them there, your heart shrinks a few sizes. I know mine does.
