Dutch Me in the Morning

Your dorm roommate. Freshman year of college. There really is no creepier relationship. I mean, think about it: who is this total stranger and why do you have to share every little detail of your life with them? Like, why do you have to sleep less than 6 inches below them every night? And why do they have to hear noises you make in your sleep? For that matter, why do you have to hear them making noises in their sleep? Things just get awkward. They are always from someplace random, like Uganda or Indiana. Plus, their mom sends them stuff like warm banana bread all the time and they are not really obliged to share with you. And how to go from jeans and a t-shirt to boxers and a tank-top without letting someone from Indiana see you naked? I mean, gosh, they might become attracted to you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. You might hate them. Or they might try to kill you. (Interestingly enough, this actually happens more often than most people know.) But it could be worse. He or she might try to talk to you all the freakin’ time. Talking is a sure indicator that your roommate can stand you and, in that case, you should casually mention that “I-find-you-attractive-when-you’re-naked” concept. It’ll get real quiet. Real fast. But if you’ve got a talker, watch out. You’ll hear about their parents, their ex-boyfriend, their dog, and that strange toenail infection they picked up in the shower. And come on, hearing about someone’s dog is just plain gross. The worst is if this complete stranger is getting some and you….well, you just aren’t. There is nothing more painful than trying NOT to listen to a bed moving or sheets rustling or (and this is really awful) people whispering sweet nothings to each other all night long. You have to do really drastic things like focus on your Calc quiz the next day or something. I know people who’ve tried headphones and loud music. They’ve tried the Calc quiz thing. Really, the only thing to do is just join right in with those two. But this is only recommended if a) you’ve had a lot of tequila beforehand and b) the UVM student handbook has no sexual harrassment policies preventing this. (Interestingly enough, this does not happen as often as people wish it would.) In real life, people get divorced if they decide they can’t live together anymore. But in college, you have to submit an application for a room change with your RA, and have a floor meeting about it and then wait 5 months for a fresh roommate to be shipped in from Indiana. But I guess college roommates may have been put on this earth for a reason after all. Maybe one night, after the day your English professor accused you of plagerism, Scott never called you back, and the college dean canceled your major, it’s nice to hear a voice in the darkness tell you that they’re sorry and that it’ll be OK. It’s nice to say goodnight to someone. Until they start making those noises in their sleep. Or become attracted to you. And not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I think I’ll take a single next year.