Interesting. Prompt, dating my housemate amusing

Posted by: Dugal Posted on: 23.07.2020

I actually want him to think I shit glitter and that I bake pies while performing sexual favors and that I DID, in fact, wake up like this. The truth of course is much darker. I survive mainly off of pop tarts, hummus, and cookie butter because my culinary skills range from ice to toast. I wear a questionable amount of flannel around the house for a straight girl, and I wake up resembling a 12 year old boy in the thick of puberty. Oh, and I just farted really loudly as I write this in our communal kitchen. As someone who has spent a lot of time alone with her dog, I can tell you that those freakish little tid bits are pretty much the bulk of my existence. Sure, I have a job and sometimes send an email here or there.

People can act differently outside, trying to show only their best side. At home nobody can keep that up for long, so you know quite fast if you and the other person are compatible or not, because there are no annoying habits that can show up immediately when you move in after a year or two: you know all their flaws from the start so if you still love them. So I can say, despite the bit awkward starting period which will be over in a few weeks being in a relationship with your flatmate can be a very good thing, as long as both partners are commited and serious.

Hi Apex, We actually have a post in the works that looks at the roommate dating situation from both angles. Check back in about a week. If you have a lease that is ending soon or only a short term commitment it is totally worth going for it. Taking the plunge was the decision I ever made, I will likely marry this woman someday. What About The Other Roommates? Author My First Apartment. He can kill rodents and roaches when required, and loves picture-hanging projects.

Or the Industrial Revolution? Or when we started hunting with metal spears instead of stone? In which case, what are we headed into? New Normal Version The way I see it, you have to embrace and adapt to what works best and safe for you. I write a hell of a lot more now than I used to.

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Whether the quantity results in quality is yet to be seen but regardless it feels, well, good. No lockdown is going to stop me being me. Do I scrap with my family? Of course! There have been plenty of times I wanted to get away from it all and return to life where I had my independence and my freedom. I am incredibly lucky to have the family I do, even if they do all drive me insane. Gone is the pressure to look a certain way or to live in a certain location e.

In just under three months my life has, once again, changed enormously. And there was I thinking living in London was the biggest shake-up to happen to me. Moving back into the family abode is shifting my perceptions and five-year goals more than any office manager or two-day Excel training course ever did. Those lamenting that office work is as extinct as the dinosaurs need to get real and understand that people will always crave social interactions. There will always be a queue for my office car park and when the doors open I will be at the front of it.

Sep 21,   'As I ended my marriage, lockdown's trapped me, the kids and a heartbroken husband together' Masturbating techniques from a self-love sexpert 11 best online dating . May 11,   Like any dating relationship, especially early on, it's unlikely you're going to be in an exclusive relationship. How will you feel if your roommate decides to bring back another date to your place? Even if you're just friends with benefits, it might be hard to see your roommate go out on a date and come back late at night - or not at all. My Housemate's a Mermaid was set up that very night and I wrote my first ever blog post in eager haste. The results were mixed but through it I learnt a lot about myself and Swindon's dating scene. I met my first long term partner at a speed dating event in the October of and things went from there. Naturally I put my foot in it by.

Like everyone else I worry for the future economy, my job security and the health of those I care most about. But of all that I worry most about what we will become. More than once I have woken from a nightmare, to discover it was only a more warped version of the life I used to lead before. The youth will never understand, will never appreciate what we went through, when in fact we were the ones who returned to hour weeks, we were the ones who were so desperate to recoup physical loses that we forgot the gains we made on our front door.

But more than this, so much more, is the reassurance that this will not last forever. One day I will return to the town where I live and work.

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None of us will be the same, but we will have future hope. One day we will all be reunited and will laugh; back when we thought this would all be over in less than three weeks. Cally Beaton, TV Executive and stand up comedian extraordinaire, delivered a powerful presentation recently in my workspace.

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We covered lots of important topics including imposter syndrome, mentoring dating woes and the difficulty of acquiring paracetamol without ID. First world problems, you know? However, that said, i t was an absolute pleasure to interview Cally and write up the subsequent article.

Introducing Cally Beaton; board member, stand-up comedian and single super mum. An interesting thought. Could it be our wonderfully unique mindsets are being plagued with self-doubt to the point where we all act and do the same? According to this insightful speaker, they very much are.

Cally turned to comedy only five years ago after realising she had to make space for the things in her life that mattered.

Jul 24,   That's what I've been told when moving in for my master's. Literally everyone I've every met says dating your housemate is the worst idea. However, I broke the rule and I'm happy I did, so here's what I learnt from dating my housemate. 1. Recognise and admit you have a crush for your housemate.

There were too many one-liners and stories to detail here but our key takeaway was the need to stay true to yourself and be a driver for change aka a positive disrupter. The future will be different so, in the words of this charismatic communicator, buckle up!

Dec 12,   My housemate is a man in his mids. We became friends through work this year and decided to become housemates. It was a good personality fit and an economic benefit for us both. May 31,   Dating your roommate is a bad idea - don't do it. Maybe you think it'll work in your situation, or maybe I'm way off-base, but my advice is just stay away - after all, I don't want to have to tell you I told you so. 5 Comments. May 31, Alex Author My First Apartment. Much to my mother's disbelief, I never set out to complicate my life by falling for my roommate, but it happened. And I'm so happy that I was open enough to explore it. Kissing him was the most fluttery and excited I've felt since opening my lunchbox in third grade and seeing a Lunchable.

Want to revisit any of the London Recalling series? Links to all four installments below. Also available through the Very British Travels page, via the navigation pane. Part Three - Solo Sell-Outs.

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Part Four - Wapping Old Stairs. Okay, so my cold seems to have moved onwards and upwardsfrom my throat to my head. I polished off the item while in the background I stuck the TV onto the only semi-passable, non-committal program basic Freeview had to offer. Wow, that would be why. No time to change, I emptied my handbag of unnecessary items, grabbed a bag of sweets for the road and headed out into the night. As I later remarked to a work colleague, one of the few benefits of attending on a Saturday night alongside a number of families - no issues with tall people in front!

Fast approaching midnight; on returning to the hotel, my last scraps of energy were applied to putting on lounge wear and flopping into bed.

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Sleep came easier to me than swimming to a fish. The next morning I pulled myself awake with relative ease. I grabbed my watch off the nightstand, The downside of thick curtains; the room was just as dark now as it had been in the early hours of the morning. I already knew where I wanted to go; the Columbia Road flower market in Hoxton only happens on a Sunday morning and I had fond memories of being in the middle of the hubbub of those who flock to the street to buy exotic plants from strange lands far beyond the Thames.

More familiar with the route I used to take from my old stomping ground, Wapping, from Tower Bridge the route was decidedly quicker when taken on foot compared to on Tubewell, in theory it was. But, at only most of London had yet to fully wake up and I found myself quite happily riding the wave of confusion as I took in the sights of a slightly less chaotic Brick Lane in the heart of the old East. When I finally arrived at the flower market spurred on by the sight of people carrying large indoor palm treesI joined the shuffling crowds.

At the far end of the long street there was a pianist and tap dancer busking to a large collated group of watchers.

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They, competing against the tradespeople for attention, the tradespeople doing similar as the two parties fought for hard-earned money. I purchased a couple of small cacti from a stand, not because I necessarily needed or wanted them in my life, but because they would look nice next to the one I already had in my home in Swindon.

Dating my housemate

A subtle reminder of a moment whenever I made a cup of tea, a way to relieve a memory without anyone else knowing. As I reached to pick up one of the items off a rack, another cactus pricked me in envy. With the bag tapping against my thigh, I made tracks to find the nearest shop to stock tubes of Savalon balm. Once this had been acquired and applied, I carried on to one of my favourite coffee haunts.

Things change. I hand over my loyalty card, the edges battered and stained from a year in the depths of my purse. While the barista makes my Americano I look down at the small piece of card. Four previous coffees, four stamps that had now amounted to nothing.

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Still, not like this fifth one would help much towards the free tenth coffee. I put it back in my purse, it still seemed too much to throw it away. I set myself up in the window, one of the few people to chose this particular coffee shop as their location of choice on a mild Sunday morning. I carefully placed one of my purchased plants down on the table, rearranging it slightly just as the barista walked over from the counter with my coffee and cake.

Not like either of us were in any rush. About an hour into a session of typing, a swarm of people poured up from the downstairs cellar. Surrounded by a flurry of voices it was impossible not to learn the subject of interest; an artsy film that had been premiered below.

Eventually they all vacated and it was service as usual; just me, a couple of bored employees and the words on my screen. I took it as a sign and made my leave. Back at the hotel I dodged past the remaining cleaner trolleys to return to my room, thankful of a slightly longer rest bite to unpack my case properly. In what felt like no time as all I was grabbing my red coat and heading out once more, this time powering towards a Sofar Sounds music gig, hosted in block of flats somewhere deep in Shoreditch.

She stares at the metal gate. Two previously here, one in Swindon.

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I give my name to the lady on the door and she directs us into the block. Everyone gets all cosy and watch three acts perform. Some of them are in commercial venues, like bars and galleries, other are like this; people offering up their own homes. We knock on the flat door and immediately it shoots open by, I assume, the host. We carefully picked our way over several groups before finding a spot to seat ourselves. I laid my coat on the floor and pulled out a bottle of water and snacks, seasoned to the ways of Sofar Sounds.

The room was packed, busier and more overcrowded than the time before. In order to fit in an ever increasing number of ticket holders I found myself having to adopt ever more creative positions to fit my body into the Tetris-like gaps that sprung up and closed as others around me did similar. Within the performance breaks Emily and I had chance to catch up. I suppose now, as we both sat in this top floor flat, what changed us was the way in which our studies shaped us.

I applied elements of my History degree into jobs with no strong bearing on the subject matter, Emily meanwhile was on a conquest to utilise her education in its purest form.

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She was in the middle of working through a Masters Degree, whilst holding down a full-time job. Now, hearing her speak so highly on her passion for the subject matter, I could only admire her strength of will all the more.

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After act one we stood up to stretch our legs, the guitarist tuning his instruments right before our noses. I pop a couple of gummy sweets in my mouth, quickly chomping on them as I offer some more into the palm of my plus one. I lift my hand to stop her. Especially when he offered to pick me up and pay for my ticket.

Well, forgive me for being too distracted by the music and, you know, not being a creep? I chuckle. I glanced over the large number of couples in the room and took in a deep breath. Sometimes I think I ask too much. The man was amazing, make no mistake, but with all music that lacks the presence of vocal chords, my creative mind suddenly found the opening to run free. I caught myself gazing at a couple sat up against the back wall.

Hidden in partial darkness and at the furthest reaches of attention and music; the two were deep in whispered conversation, he with an arm around her shoulder and she clutching his spare hand in one of her own. The world around them were merely the backing dancers, extras in their sell-out performance. Then my mind raced forwards to later; I pictured them leaving the flat laughing and running down the street, jovial in manner but a hidden urgency to get to the Tube.

She yanks him into the train carriage just as the doors close, his jacket narrowly missing entrapment. She holds him there, by the t-shirt collar, held in suspense while the carriage rattles and lurches in sudden, jerky, movements, the tracks screeching its siren call. It floods into her as he leans forward and sharply kisses her against the sliding door, just as the train pulls into the station.

The woman pushes him back with a giggle, a slight nod to indicate that this is the stop to alight from. And when they get to the flat, that little compact and scruffy space that could have been theirs for years or hers for weeks; when they finally tumble in, they interlock like time itself is as fleeting as sand in a glass. The things that are enacted next, in that dark space warmed by both body and street light, they are the thoughts that cannot be written.

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How constraining and insufferable the English language can be at the times we need it most. They lie there, on the collapsed mattress with passion-stained sheets, no words needing to be said to dare risk spoiling this brief moment of euphoria.

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Her head rests on his body, a long tangle of jet black hair intertwining with that on his chest. Slowly, but surely, the pair drift off into a deep sleep; they have barely said a word to each other since leaving the event. Someone suddenly moves in front of me and in a daze I quickly move one my limbs in the opposite direction.

Bad decision, I feel something snap at the back of my left leg followed by sharp pain the full length of the limb. Biting my lip hard to prevent a yelp of pain, I look down and see that my leg must have been in an awkward position for sometime, it almost looks dislocated the angle is so unnatural.

Emily gives me a nudge, the performer has finished his set. I clap along, using the chance to curse under my breath and position myself to stretch my leg out.

The pain subsides, even if for a short spell.

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I slowly blink and return focus elsewhere. For those with an interest in producing any form of art having a broad and open mindset is an essential part of our very make up. The ability to see something and pull out a deeper meaning or be inspired to create a new one.

The irony; my sweet heroin is the thing that keeps me sane. I was sat in the local pub later that night, one I used to frequent regularly when I lived only a couple of streets away.

With a hand resting across my lap; watching boats speed up and down the dark abyss of the Thames, I heard a woman muttering in the seat behind. NB - I was not paid to visit or promote any of the above, adding links for reference. Hot water bottle, chocolate bar wrappers scattered all around not that I can taste anything and badly wanting to curl up into a ball and sleep prevented by a sharp pain in my throat - I might be coming down with tonsillitis again.

Oh, and my left calf is covered in bruises, but at least not so swollen. So how have I got to be in this state? I rock up to Paddington early on Saturday morning. I am sans coffee and already reminding myself what it was like only a few months ago when dragging an over weighted cabin case was the norm. Still hacking across London on the Underground. Two long-time friends who, as luck would have it, met in Swindon in different industries but bonded strongly in London working for rival banks.

We hop on the Bakerloo line and speed away towards China Town. I watch group of tourists in protective face masks walk by.

My Thoughts on Roommates

Cherice laughs her signature laugh, causing everyone to stop for a second to study the source. One of the things I love about her. The waiter agrees with my judgement, rushing forward with my very much needed Americano.

I roll my eyes. When you gave me the chocolates for my birthday and she said it was cute of you to treat me to Hotel Chocolat? Cherice, with her egg diet and cross-fit, in the old days it was enough to convince me I was the more effeminate one in our pairing. Then London happened and I decided the only thing separating us in that regard was that I was the more decisive one, the one more likely to be more assertive, less caring what others thought.

Now, as Cherice literally held my hand on every Tube change my thoughts were scattered again. Do you even know where we are? You said we were going to the Wellcome Collection and here I am.

Also, I get bad bookshop envy. We walked around the collection, idly laughing about the medicinal equipment knew the GCSE would eventually come in use and watched children playing around some of the kid-friendly exhibits.

Our extremes of surroundings growing up has always been a topic of immense bewilderment to the other. I lived in the middle of nowhere, nothing but fields as far as the eye can see. We pop our heads into an exhibit on the power of water, splitting up briefly before Cherice returns to find me watching a surreal video of a McDonalds slowly flooding. Slow TV, but with undertones of climate awareness. Makes you wonder, where are the humans? Just bear in mind that you may need to reevaulate your living situation if it all comes crashing down around your ears.

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