There (usually) comes that time in every young adults life where they have to forego the comfort that living alone brings and sacrifice the ability to lay like a starfish in bed in order to co habit with a significant other. Sometimes the “living together” decision comes in the form of an official proposition of cohabiting like an engagement with the offering of a shiny new key. Alternatively it can be something that just naturally evolves within the relationship and you find yourself wondering why you do the showmance of retiring to respective houses at the end of an evening.
Moving in is kind of a big deal. Despite how much you think you know about your significant other and no matter how much time you spend together, it’s essentially an amulgamation of two separate lives coming together and hoping with all your heart that you don’t wind up killing eachother.
Bearing in mind that this cohabiting situation involves close living quarters, it’s only natural that there will be a couple of teething problems. Make that 10.
What it’s really like when you move in with a boy.
He uses your expensive body products and hair treatments like they’re the 26p Value shampoos and body washes from the bottom shelf in Tesco. “Ooh this smells lovely” he says as he lathers himself up with a MORE than generous handful of your best Elemis stuff and ignores the strategically placed Radox you’ve left on the side of the bath with a massive sign saying USE ME.
With a boy comes his mistress, the other woman… his Xbox (!) and his multitude of shooty games, headsets, controllers and spaghetti junction of wires. It drains your wifi of valuable speed and takes up an entire shelf in your TV unit. However it can be forgiven due to the fact that it offers hands free control of Netflix.
Do you know what I’ve always struggled with? Having a wardrobe, floordrobe and chairdrobe covered in piles of clothes. When you share a house with someone they rudely bring along all of THEIR clothes with them and expect you to make room in your already over spilling storage for them. Think that’s bad enough? They then suggest that maybe you need to “have a clear out” and “get rid” of some of the “stuff you never wear”. I can’t even…
He leaves the toilet seat up…
… & if he doesn’t leave the seat up you can bet your bottom dollar that you’re battling with the aftermath of morning wood and his hand eye coordination not being up to scratch. This means you wind up with wee dribble on the seat. Have you ever accidentally sat on someone’s warm wee? I have, it isn’t so pleasant.
Your utilities bills double because of aforementioned XBox, mammoth water usage, late night TV viewings (where he forgets to turn the TV off) and having to charge his phone 300x a day in order to watch ma stupid Facebook videos.
Stupid. Facebook. Videos. Have you ever tried to have a conversation about what to have for tea or what happened at work over the sound of a video of a stupid stunt or some kind of sporting event or a Jeremy Kyle blooper? God give me strength.
You cant get on with your secret single behaviour because you’re not single anymore. Seeing as though you can’t spend two hours locked in the bathroom on a weekly basis for fear of him thinking you’ve got a case of the squits, the likes of nose pore strips, hair removal, popping your pimples and dying your eyebrows being done in private are pretty slim.
Which leads me on to the point.
Pooing. Farting. Mess. Dirty underwear. Mouldy sponges. Congealed drinking glass substance abandoned under the bed. All those things that you once did in the privacy of your own home. Yep, it all happens and that guy who you’ve managed to coerce into sharing your abode is going to be witness to all that. Gulp.
Y’know how BB (before boy) your diet would consist of Rose wine, baked sweet potato and a variety of fillings? PB (post boy) your kitchen is ambushed by an onslaught of fizzy, full fat, chemically flavoured boy friendly food. Beer, energy drinks, stinky artificial flavoured crisps that taste so good and packets and packets of smokey porky goodness for “necessary” Saturday morning bacon and egg sarnies with a dollop of red sauce. And Sunday morning sarnies.
Those guilty pleasure and impromptu Keeping up with the Kardashian marathons will be long gone and you can kiss New Girl Nights bye bye. After all, if you’re not willing to watch hour after hour of UFC you can’t expect him to watch Kim K-West cry over a heel breaking or with stand the sexual chemistry between Nick and Jess in season 2 that almost sent you over. Am I right?
…..but it isn’t ALL bad
The good points of living with a boy? You get to split a whole host of things: the bills, the washing up, the cooking, the cleaning. You have someone at home to projectile word vomit your whole day over when you get home. You gain a whole new wardrobe full of slouchy, super comfy clothes. It’s kind of a big deal for someone to want to share living quarters with you but it doesn’t actually feel like that big a deal. You can get away with being unshaven or wearing oversized undies and he won’t judge you.
And most of all, you get to come home every night to your best friend. Awww/vom.