The shitty thing about living with people you don't know and don't interact with is that you just have to take the initiative and declare that you're allowed to leave your room without pants on.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I don't want to be that roommate, but for the love of god, I'm paying $800 for an apartment without air-conditioning. I reserve the right to not have to layer to get a snack or go to the bathroom.
This is by far one of the hardest parts of growing up.
As a child, I was one of 4 girls. No brothers. You pee with the door open, and you get terrible wedgies that ruin your hand me down Hanes.
Also, please understand that the people I lived with in college saw me partially clothed more often than fully accoutred. Not because we were some nudist colony, but we did theatre, so if it wasn't lounging around in PJs in our apartment hungover on a Sunday, it was dance class, or costuming for a show. If you're looking for an abundance of nude strangers, become a fine art major.
I was lucky enough to live with girls and boys. And it takes effort to consciously consider the feeling of others when it comes to underwear etiquette.
I'll stop frolicking around in my skivvies when I get caught, but for future reference, I'm only living with people I know, or gay males....who like plus sized women.
P.S. This post is dedicated to Ryan Fitzgerald & Chris Allen, and Ryan's Space Jam quilt. I miss you boys.