Recently I’ve been living with bro-mates, or roommates with dicks. This is a first for me ‘cause 1) I never had any brothers and my parents are sexless to me; 2) I lived on an all girls-floor and then in a sorority (be quiet) in college; and 3) Oh, I lived with my boyfriend once for like, six months, but banging someone on every surface of your home and then having a tumultuous break up is not the same thing as just being roomies.
One of my favorite parts about living with the duo of dudes in our humble abode in Brooklyn (we’re broke and it’s nothing sitcom worthy) are the enlightening realizations that arise from spending far too much time together — and only while getting a little baked, I swear. Here are the things you, too, could learn from a female roommate, should you ever have the glorious opportunity to acquire one.
Photo credit: ramsey everydapants, Flickr
You must not take the concept of a man cave literally. Open your damn blinds and consider the addition of a red or red-orange accent wall. Just one wall. Just — something warm. Your place doesn’t instantaneously transform into a Sanrio-on-crack-den the minute a woman moves in. Your home will just seem… brighter.
Photo credit: axelandra, Flickr
While you’re using an old washcloth and a 3-in-1 shampoo/body wash/conditioner combo, I have exactly six shelves of beauty products that are not limited to a range of lotions and a 5-step post-shower hair care regimen. Yes, I know we all have free will, blah blah blah, but the beauty industry spends millions to market to me and I’m so insecure and it’s so alluring and the packaging is so pretty and we spend $7 billion dollars a year on cosmetics and I JUST NEED TO BE BEAUTIFUL. So maybe you can feel a lil’ better when you pay for a date? ‘Cause I just spent $60 on a Brazilian wax (we must be hairless and so, so smooth from various lotions — how do you think the hot ladies plastered all over this site got to look like that?)
Photo credit: Clean Wal-Mart, Flickr
Ah, people hate that word! A girl just said it, though, so it’s OK. It’s difficult for anyone to put dates into perspective, which is why things like “He’s Just Not That Into You” and jerking it to Internet porn until you’re fresh out of ejaculates exist. Everyone will give you the “Ehh…” sound when you come back from a date where the woman showed up forty-five minutes late, texted during the whole entire dinner, and then texted you afterwards and acted like everything was peachy-fucking-keen. Woman Roommate would call her a c-nt. Not only was she unjustifiably disrespectful as shit to a dude we obviously think is cool enough to live with, but she’s done our whole gender a disserve in this insane world of dating.
Photo credit: Woman whispering image by Shutterstock
If you’re able to spend fifteen minutes boiling some fucking water to make a bowl of white nutrition-less pasta, you can easily get some frozen chicken and vegetables, throw them in a pan, and turn them over a couple of times to make your dinner. It may not be the best meal. But while you’re eating take out for the seventh night in a row, I know you’re jealous of the awesome grilled salmon and sweet potato I just made!
…OK, you can have a bite. Fine, you can eat the rest. Dammit. Oh, and the oven isn’t just for pans and the freezer isn’t just for liquor!
Photo credit: Man cooking image by Shutterstock
Imagine if you had some person on hand to honestly answer the question, “Is my ex going to stop being a tease and take me back… in this outfit?” Oh sure, sure we all “dress for ourselves” (no, no we don’t), but we all know you want to know if that shirt makes you look like a classy MF’er who’s going to allure a woman to suck his D while I would similarly like to know if my outfit screams, “Smart, cool, and fuckable to the max.” Of course no outfit’s ever going to draw in hoards of women on its own — stick to your guns, get clothes that fit, and have that confidence like that classy MF’er you already are.
Photo credit: diloz, Flickr
Taking out the trash is a man job and organizing things and putting them into collaged boxes is a woman job. I fucking hate taking out the trash.
Photo credit: Orin Zebest, Flickr
One of my roommate’s favorite stories to tell is about the time he went to the grotto at the Playboy mansion. And rightfully so! It’s a story of sex and exclusivity and hot-tub rampant illnesses. But if I were on a date with him, I’d probably be like, “Yuh-huh” and text my friends all night about how I so badly DON’T WANT TO BE ON THE DATE. (I’m not implying my roommate told his date this story — he is a true gentleman. Ladies, I could hook you up!)
The bottom line is that not all women are afraid of weird sex stories and porn. We love it just as much as you do! It might not make us all hot for you, but it’ll heighten your coolness and thus, increase your chances of us hooking you up with our friends or people we people we occasionally write for on the Internet.
Photo credit: jurvetson, Flickr
(Previously published on November 4, 2011.)
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