Living with Boys

So, I have a boyfriend who has an apartment and flatmates. I’m there six out of seven weekdays most of the time, and pay for food and help with bills, so I happily say that I pretty much live there. This would be all well and good except my boyfriend has flatmates who happen to also both be boys. I never thought I was that picky about messes and unwashed dishes, so either I am secretly Monica Geller or boys are truly incredibly gross. It also happens that this is not the biggest apartment, and it only has two bedrooms so one of the flatmates lives on the couch. It’s hard to have four people and a cat (mine and my boyfriends fur-child) crammed into a small space, which can make it extra hard for me. I’m lucky in that until late June I have somewhere else I can go, but after that, I’m out of luck.

Since I started spending a lot of time in this apartment, there are several things that have come to my attention that are slowly becoming more and more irritating. Boys are neanderthals, and this is what I have learned from living with them.

Towels aren’t necessary…

Seriously. I have to supply my own towels. All the towels that are in the apartment, are filthy and usually still damp. Beats me what they do after a shower. Call me crazy but I think that towels should be at the very least available and dry.

…neither is toilet paper

Seriously. There is no toilet paper unless I supply it. Not even a few measly scraps on the toilet roll. But then after I buy some, even an eight-pack, it’s gone in about two or three days. I don’t want to know what they do when there isn’t toilet paper (which is always), honestly, I feel we’re all better off not knowing. But how do they then go through it so fast? what are they doing with it? where is it going? are they squirreling it away in case of emergencies? what kind of emergency calls for twenty rolls of loo paper? I have many questions and every answer is probably gross.

Bathrooms don’t need cleaning.

This one requires no explanation. I’ll let you envision a bathroom used by three boys (and a cat) that is never cleaned.

Who needs cooking utensils?

Every day, I wake up and thank every deity I can think of for Kmart. Specifically, for the $20 fifty piece cooking utensil set I had to buy from there after discovering that there were no knives capable of cutting anything more than melted butter. Or a peeler that was usable. Or a can opener. Or anything required for cooking beyond a single fork and a handful of spoons. Clearly, not much food was being consumed.

Stains.

My boyfriend only recently figured out that you have to clean up spilled liquids straight away so that it doesn’t stain, and there isn’t much to be done after it’s set. They are all avid coffee drinkers. I think the carpet used to be light grey, but I can’t quite be certain.

Ehhh, I’ll clean it later.

Meat on the floor? I’ll get it in a day or two, or three. Cat made a mess? I’ll get it later. Dropped some cigarette ash? oh, shit. Toilet needs cleaning? I’ll get round to it. Wash the towels, you say? hm, interesting concept.

The list goes on. I’ve left some of the really bad stuff out because you don’t need that kind of negativity in your life. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable, but maybe I just need to drink a little more often? Who knows. Nonetheless, I can’t wait to move.

Stay gold.

 

 

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