I have, over the years, experienced a variety of living situations: with the parents; with strangers during my first year at university; with Best Mate and boys; with The Californian who turned out to be rather more certifiable than one likes in a cohabitee; with girl pals; and now, living with The Writer.
The few short weeks of our sharing a front door have been a learning curve, and one in which I have ascertained the following:
- When you live with a boy, a lot of FIFA12 happens. More than I had originally anticipated. There’s also some Skyrim and something else that involves skateboards. [It's actually snowboards, I’ve been reliably informed from the other end of the sofa.]
- When one has Sky on the Xbox and its complicated controller handset thingummies, it’s remarkable how quickly one can learn to miss a remote control.
- Living with boys comes with certain wardrobe advantages: you might not be able to borrow an exciting LBD for a party, but there’s nothing like an oversized, flannel lumberjack shirt that smells faintly of Terre d’Hermes to make a girl feel at home when she gets in from work.
- Boys eat. Don’t get me wrong: I like, nay, love food. There’s little that makes me happier than an incredible olive and rosemary loaf from The Bread Room, dipped in some good, grassy olive oil and eaten with warmed goats’ cheese. But I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten as much as I do living with TW. There’s always something tasty around; the proportion of my weekday suppers that consist of toast is down to zero; and I’ve never eaten pudding on as regular a basis as I do now. I am going to rapidly resemble a blimp.
- You get through loo roll less quickly than you do living with girls.
- You get through kitchen roll far more quickly.
- Aware as you might be that pockets need relieving of receipts, coins and earphones before trousers go in the wash, collar stiffeners come as a surprise every time I put a load of washing on.
- There is apparently no such thing as too much jam.
- I’ve discovered there are myriad things that can be plugged into a TV. What they all do, I couldn’t tell you.
- They’re brilliantly unfazed by a large box of Tampax in the bathroom, but boys are disproportionally revolted by long hair clogging up a shower drain.
- What shoes are to women, ties and pocket squares are to men. Thankfully they take up less space.
- The Kitchen Drawer of Useful Things, previously home to matches, hair elastics and ibuprofen, is now where we keep the shoe-horn. No, I’ve no real idea either.
I take a turn to moan about Band Aid.
3 hours ago