I love living with five boys and I’m not even shagging them
I deserve a medal for this
We were originally seven strong – five boys and two girls, a poor ratio even then. But in January of first year the other girl dropped out of uni and suddenly I was on my own. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Turns out both – a lot.
When I tell people, they pass their judgements. I’m neither or slut or lesbian and I swear you’ll never hear me say “I’m just one of those girls who gets on better with boys”.
You know what? I just really like living with boys.
Sure it has its drawbacks. Our house is never clean and I’ve even had to resort to hiding my own cutlery. When you move in with boys, you sign away your right to a decent night’s sleep.
And even when you manage to get some, there’ll always be someone around to barge into your room at 3am and tell you about his night. Or ask to sleep in your bed as he used his bedsheets as a towel earlier. I once to came home to find Rabbit in the microwave – a stuffed toy, not a vibrator.
They say bringing your boyfriend home to meet your parents is one of the scariest things in life. But have you ever brought your boyfriend home to your all male house? The first thing one of them asked him was “how much do you bench?”. I was horrified.
“Man up” is a phrase you have to embrace. There’s no way of avoiding physical violence and crying means nothing to them. If I had a pound for every time I’ve been rolled up in the sofa bed I’d be literally rolling in it.
It turns out they have no shame either, none whatsoever. To start with they poo with the door open. They’ll easily try and hold a conservation with me half way through and frankly it’s just not natural. But you can’t get angry because they just want to talk, even if it is mid-poo.
Movember was pretty tense for us on Cavendish Road as only one of our flatmates can grow a decent beard – competition was fierce. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen more facial hair on Great Aunts’ than the others’ pitiful attempts.
Even so, this doesn’t permit the time I came home from uni to find one of them at my mirror colouring in his woeful ‘tache with my mascara.
One thing I begrudgingly appreciate is their brutal honesty. The number of times I’ve been told I look ridiculous in an outfit it’s a wonder I have the confidence to get out of bed in the morning.
They make me laugh almost to the point of wetting myself at least once a day. For my 21st, they got together and made me a naked calendar. Though some of the photos are obscenely graphic, it’s hands down the funniest present I’ve ever received.
But for all the heartache, I think I actually quite living with them. Sure, you’ll have to give up a clean kitchen and your mascara if someone wants to enhance their beard, but they might make you a personalised 21st birthday calendar which includes a lot of naked pictures of them in several different settings. I even got a matching mug.
One word of wisdom – always have a healthy store of tea bags. You can get out of literally any situation by offering to make the tea.
Honestly, thrown to the floor, hands pinned behind your back about to get the biggest nuggie of your life, just offer tea.