I’m the only girl living in a sad boy uni house, here’s what I’ve learnt
Why do they insist on putting crisps on top of every meal ffs
The "sad boy" is not an uncommon sight at uni – often spotted wearing the same unwashed pair of jeans, sat in the library eating a meal deal they probably can’t afford, finding fellow sad boys to be mates with through a mutual love of Fifa and shit tinnies.
The sad boy house is an unclean space. The recycling bin is piled high, and their desperation to find a girlfriend goes even higher. They hold quintessentially male traits: unwashed plates on the side, unwashed bed sheets that are starting to go crusty, and unwashed bodies slouched on the sofa staring blankly at the PS4 for 14 hours a day.
Now imagine a girl living in that house. That's me. I'm that girl. And to be honest it’s been the best year of my life. Here's what it's been like being the only girl living in a sad boy house.
They nap constantly
They miss uni in order to have a nap, they nap between breakfast and lunch, they even nap before bed? I didn’t understand it at first. How could anyone need a nap 45 minutes after waking up? But it’s actually genius. Plus, if they’re always napping, I feel validated in also having lots of naps. How else are we supposed to stay up til 4am every night playing Fifa and Call of Duty?
They are some of the most creative people I’ve ever met
Not because they’ve watched one Wes Anderson film in order to chat an arts student up and they think they understand art, oh no. They’re creative in other, less celebrated ways. Stacking up unwashed plates and cups until it’s impossible to move any to clean them presents not a problem, but rather a challenge. What other things found in the kitchen can be used to eat off of?
I’m definitely guilty of leaving mugs all over the house and a lot of the washing up is definitely mine so I’m used to eating meals out of a saucepan, but to them the saucepan is basic, it’s tier one, it’s not even a shock to see someone eating out of one anymore. Large plastic mixing bowls full of pasta, tomato soup out of a frying pan with a fork, and using bowls as mugs – now that’s impressive.
They eat SO MUCH food
It’s not just what they eat out of that’s unusual, it’s what they eat, too. Jaffa Cakes smothered in Greek yoghurt and strawberry jam may not be what you or I think of as a tasty snack, but in this house anything goes.
One of them consumes endless vats of plain spaghetti (you can literally get sauce for 20p from Lidl, come on now), whilst another piles his plastic mixing bowl high with, on one notable occasion, a baked potato topped with cold pasta sauce, crushed up chilli Doritos, and broccoli "for the gains". Apparently putting crisps on top of food makes it better, like "putting crisps on your lasagne, it makes it into a casserole, right?"
"Out out" means something totally different to guys
Sports night on a Wednesday is not appreciated by them the way it should be. There’s no enthusiasm. I’m used to weekly socials, gearing up and getting dressed up with your gals, downing Echo Falls as we power through Lansdowne to try and get in with our VIP card before midnight.
The boys, however, may or may not remember to ring a taxi, and will definitely go out in the same t-shirt and jeans they’ve had on for the last two days. They go with the intention of pulling, but they can’t even be bothered to do that when we get there. Their most used phrase on a night out is no longer “Smash or Pass?” but instead it’s now “Mega Kebab?”
Though, to be fair, there is definitely something to be said for leaving early and getting food – the chips soak up the alcohol, and the extra sleep combined with fewer VKs means no hangover. Plus, having a solid squad of boys to dance with is not only great fun – one of them did the worm on the sticky floor once, fair play – but also gives you a wall of protection from roaming drunk guys trying to give you the eye from the bar.
Their Tinder bios are simply shocking
Their inability to pull on a night out has led to the nature of my procrastination changing. Once upon a time I would sit re-watching Gilmore Girls and scrolling mindlessly through Instagram – but now my time is spent productively, helping them sort out their Tinder profiles. I get a strange sense of pride watching them learn to not send chat up lines like "Are you from Tokyo? Because I want to get in Japanties." Very cathartic.
They’ve not just given me an appreciation for Fifa, and leaving the club early to smash a takeaway, though. I think they’ve also started to take on some of my habits.
Now, downstairs, masking the smell of the bins that need taking out (due in part to my negligence), are a number of scented candles. There are fairy lights strung up around the living room, offering a different glow to the blue light of the PS4. One of them even shuffled out of his room wearing a dressing gown and fluffy socks the other day. Amazing. Granted, it was at 3pm, but it’s progress.
I never expected to be spending my final year of uni sat with a group of boys, all of us on chairs pulled up close to the TV, playing Minecraft together with the fierce determination of an 11-year-old boy. Not just with them, but as one of them – and I couldn’t be happier.