When enduring the confusing and unusual experience of what is known as college, there are many challenges each of us face. One challenge being finding a suitable roommate.
I'm sure everyone has heard these myths of people finding the perfect roommate, someone who has become their person.
You hear heartwarming stories of roommates becoming best friends, bonding over Netflix, juicy gossip, all-nighters and the slight horrors of college. Whether these roommate friendships happen purely out of luck or are strategically picked they happen, apparently.
Though, for some, it is not always so easy to find your Cristina Yang.
If you're like me, you relate more to a jar of Nutella than to most people. It's not a great quality, but things could always be worse, right?
For those who struggle with the idea of potentially having a roomie, don't fret it's normal to worry. I mean, SO much pressure is put on this idea of finding a Joey to your Chandler or a Monica to your Rachel and living out your four years of college together. The whole thing is slightly glamorized and actually way more achievable than it appears. Trust me, if I can survive rooming with another living thing that isn't a cat, anyone can.
Starting my freshmen year of college I moved into an apartment, with not one, but two boys.
Though these two boys are my older brothers, one being a genius and the other being convinced he's Zac Efron, I was not too sure I could do the whole "New Girl" thing and live solely with boys.
I have never been "one of the guys." I like drinking cheap, pink wine and crying, just like any other semi-emotionally-unstable college student. I like unrealistic romance movies and Taylor Swift, but it seemed that I was now stepping into boy world, leaving behind all that is good and estrogen.
Though my new roomies would never understand the art of contouring or the importance of great eyebrows, they were special in their own way. When the AC broke, they knew what to do. When the door knob broke and I was locked inside our apartment, they knew what to do. When a snake got stuck under our door (this still makes me squirm beyond belief), they still knew what to do. This was so comforting, mainly because I have no idea what to do. ever. I usually try to solve my problems with Nutella, which I am not 100% sure would have worked in any of these situations.
The next two years were filled with disgusting rounds of jungle juice, endless nights of playing Catan, and somehow setting our kitchen table on fire. They were the best two years.
Unfortunately, time marches on.
With the genius brother moving to New Orleans to attend medical school and the Zac Efron wannabe brother moving into his fraternity house, our weird times are coming to an end.
Though it is the end of an era there are still many more cups of jungle juice to regret drinking, games of Catan to be played, and kitchen tables to catch fire. Thank you bothers/roomies for somehow being my Cristina Yang and not allowing me to drop out of college. Much appericated.
