I Never Thought I’d Have a Roommate at 30

This shit is for the birds.

I turn 31 years old next month. The young adult inside who cried when I turned 20 (I legitimately remember saying “I’m not a teenager anymore. It’s who I am!”) has matured and isn’t freaking out about advancing into my 30s.

What I am freaking out about is still having a roommate. It’s a very “metropolitan” thing to have a roommate to help bring down the costs of housing. New York City has a roommate mentality and I knew this when I first moved here. I just never thought I would still have a roommate! I don’t know if, as a boy, I knew what my life would be like but it definitely didn’t include the part where I was living with strangers at 30. Yes, having a roommate decreases the amount I pay in rent but it also increases my anxiety levels.

Some years back, I went to my general physician because of some stomach issues I was having. When I was asked to describe my symptoms, I apparently slipped in some unrelated frustrations. I was stopped mid-sentence and was told I clearly needed something to help calm me down.

Hi, Xanax prescription. 👀

But my general physician was right! I had recently moved into an apartment with 3 other people. Count it: 3 roommates in one apartment. Forget the fact that it was a split level and had a washer/dryer in-unit. Dealing with 3 personalities was too much work. I’m not in college anymore!

So, I got my prescription filled and at the end of that lease, I moved into a 1-bedroom. I had my prescription refilled because my slumlord landlord lived to terrorize her tenants and told me if I wanted to resign my lease, the rent would be going up to $3,000.

I ran to the pharmacy and refilled my prescription before moving into an apartment with two strangers. I’m living with two strangers. Did I mention my prescription? Oh, I did? Multiple times, you say?

WELL, IT WAS NEEDED.

Having roommates truly does feel like college. I didn’t care for it then. Don’t particularly care for it now. I don’t want to have to risk a bladder infection because the bathroom is never free. I don’t want to perform anymore awkward dance routines in the kitchen because we’re both trying to cook dinner at the same time. I don’t want my sexy time friend(s) to feel awkward as I usher them out into the night because my roommate is silently standing in the kitchen not doing anything besides silently standing in the kitchen.

It’s enough to make me go full Gone Girl.

Unless they’re shacking up in sin with their partner, most of my friends live alone. How I envy them. I’ve bounced between the two (single and “coupled up”) and I have to say I prefer being on my own. That’s why I’ve decided that the next apartment I go into will be a solo endeavor.

It’ll be expensive, though. A “decent” one-bedroom in my desired neighborhood would cost me at least $2,400. I’m already so sad at how much money will be tossed out the window each month just for 35 sq. ft I’m sure this apartment will be. But I’ll be able to get back some of my sanity! And I’ll have a place to call my own and plant my roots for many, many years to come!

That’s a lie. Tomorrow, I’m talking about leaving New York City so…stay tuned. 😂