Months before moving in for college, girls and guys alike begin looking for a roommate. Much like online dating, we stalk each and every possible contestant. We look at their interests, their pictures, their friends’s pictures even; we try to find every possible detail about them before we sign the papers and officially commit to sharing a room with our hardly acquainted stranger. Talk about stressful.
After weeding out a few decent people, we start texting, calling, and Face Timing, anything we can do to get to know them on a personal level. After many weeks of this back and forth game of Twenty Questions, we finally find a winner. The one. The only. The roommate.
Move in day comes and, for many long distance friendships like myself, we meet our roommate for the first time. First impressions are key here, and everything seems to be off to a great start. *Cue communal sigh of relief* Thank God too, because now we have at least one friend to cling desperately to for the first day of the dreaded week of orientation coming our way.
After making it through the first week, you and your roommate now have a generous group of friends, some mutual, some not. However, none of them can compare to your incredible roomie. They keep their side of the room clean, make their bed every day, keep the lights off when they come in and see that you’re in bed, are quiet in the mornings when they have class and you don’t; all is well. The Honeymoon phase, as I like to call it. Like all honeymoons, however, it is short-lived and somewhat fantastical. You’ve yet to see their worst.
The third or fourth week of school rolls around, exams surging in like a tsunami, drowning us in stress and homework. With this, too, comes the first wave of college illness, overflowing our little dorm room trashcans with snot and tear stained tissues. Due to the third week crisis or due to finally being comfortable with each other, our roommate’s habits begin to show themselves.
Beds remain unmade for days on end. The floor is no longer visible, but is instead carpeted with clothes, shoes, and empty water bottles. Somehow, the futon seems to have disappeared too. Homework gets scattered across the room. You frequently wake up to a muttered “shit” as your roommate leaps down from their lofted bed, grabs their book bag, and darts out the door in one fluid motion, presumptuously late for class.
The chaos of the room starts to get to you a little, adding another component to your already long list of things to be stressed about. You have to remind yourself that it’s the third week and things will probably go back to normal when things calm down a bit. Probably is the key word here.
It’s now the sixth week in and it still looks like a tornado took out half of your room, just barely sparing your side from the demolition. You may be pulling your hair out at this point, or maybe you’re considering living out of your car instead. Neither alternative is a wise choice.
With that being said, here’s a gentle reminder for those of you, like myself, who walk the tightrope of being clean and being OCD: it honestly does not matter. Remind yourself of how incredible your roommate is and of all the qualities they possess for which you are thankful.
Who cares if they never offer to vacuum? Who cares if their closet looks like a landslide hit and dumped everything onto the floor? Who cares if they snooze their alarm seven times every morning before finally getting out of bed with five minutes to spare. Remind yourself that this person, while maybe not as A-Type as you, is wonderful in his or her own way. Remind yourself that sometimes-different personalities are meant to complement each other. Remind yourself that the honeymoon is a vacation; no one ever lives there. You aren’t meant to either.
