I love living with boys even if they do leave their pubes everywhere
The sack is great craic
Halls is a mixing pot of students, and you’re very lucky if you like everyone in your flat.
For me, it turned out that the people I got along with best were a group of guys, who I now live with.
Now, I’ve never used the cringe-worthy words “I just get on better with lads” and I’m a strong believer that friends are friends no matter the sex.
But in no way are we the same. And living with guys comes with its upsides – and its downsides.
Long gone are the hours of groping and pulling which normally come with a night out. Being surrounded by my lad-pals means only the bravest creeper would attempt to try it on with me, and I can go home with my cheesy chips un-violated.
Guys take five to 10 minutes in the bathroom depending on whether-or-not they need a poo (eww). I love my long baths and living with men means that I have more time soaking in the tub. Bliss.
A girl hug is just not the same. A big bear hug makes everything better.
No one to steal your stuff
Everyone hates going to their wardrobe and finding that someone else has nabbed the outfit you had planned. None of that with boys, bar Stephen when he’s pissed. Saucy.
Being the only girl, you are Queen of the house by default.
Not every girl is a weakling like me but there are certain day-to-day tasks where most lasses would appreciate a man’s presence. Things like opening jars and carrying heavy shopping bags. It’s all about the biceps.
When guys bring their guy mates on nights out, it quickly turns into a testosterone-filled cock-fest. It’s pretty obvious who stands out the most – the one with the vag-jay-jay. Queue judgmental evils from girls all night.
No girly advice
If there is one thing I miss about living with girls, it’s a good ol’ girly chin-wag. You can’t talk to lads about how bad your period pain has been or your dodgy stomach and even attempts to talk to them about boy problems would probably end in awkward shoulder shrugging.
Expect to have “the beautiful game” on the telly every Saturday, Sunday, Monday nights and Wednesday nights for the champions league. When the footballs on, your house turns into a mini stadium with lads screaming at the T.V as if the players can hear them.
Even when it’s not on T.V it doesn’t stop there. FIFA, intermural football games, in-depth player analyses and rivalry banter fill the gaps until they get their next fix.
This is a biggie. Who wants to hear someone else doing their business? As a girl who likes to keep this sort of thing as private as possible, this is a big problem.
It usually takes me a good minute to start weeing if I know someone is within hearing distance. You can imagine my terror when I need a number two.
No sharing of clothes
Although it’s great that my stuff doesn’t go missing, I kind of wish I had a girl about to swap clothes from time to time. Lack of funds mean I haven’t updated my wardrobe since about 2011.
These normally arise when we are watching things like Loose Women. Or when the word “slag” or “slut” is chucked about. These discussions are never heated but my inner Beyoncé ascends and I preach about how hard it is to be a woman.
They shed these like nothing else. They’re bloody EVERYWHERE.
But I love them all, and plan to stay put next year.
Could you put up with it?