In twenty-four years of existence, three cities, college away from home,
and an overwhelming push from the professional environment, I have never once
lived on my own. I must confess that I have no idea what it’s like to have my
own space and not have to share it. I grew up with a little brother five years
younger than me in a family environment where privacy was not really an option.
I had two roommates at any given point throughout my four years of college. Now
I’m down to one roommate in an 860 sq ft 2 bed 2 bath apartment. Most people my
age have either lived on their own at some point, or express a strong desire to
do so after having some kind of annoyingly terrible experience. I know people
who have lost best friends and they blame it on having the guts to live with
them. Sharing personal space seems to invoke one common feeling: crowded.
Not including my immediate family, I’ve lived with a total
of seven people to this day. Not only have I lived with seven people, but I’ve
lived with seven entirely different people with entirely different styles of
living. I started off my college academic adventures with two good
friends from high school. Both guys. Both similar cultures. One was a
psychology major, the other was a ‘I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my
life’ major. I was studying engineering. During the summer, before we started
school, the three of us worked together to fix up the condo. We were in the
business of creating a home. I could write a book with the stories I have in my
pocket from those days, but the most important thing I remember is the
dynamic. We would cook for each other, clean for each other, and yell at each other
for not cooking and cleaning enough for each other. It was just like growing up at home! We had parties and tried new
things on campus together. We would invent crazy shenanigans to fill up a Saturday and we
learned how to laugh at each other, and ourselves. We sang at the top of our lungs whether it was some gospel hymn or Tenacious D. We were our own fraternity
starting our quest for self discovery and awareness; making mistakes and
learning how to grow together. It was simple really, everything from schedules
to what was in the fridge at any given moment was in flux, but the chemistry and
identity of the house never wavered. We
would eat dinner together at the dining room table.
After two years, one of them moved out to pursue what he
really wanted to study in a different city. His room was filled with another
good friend of mine from high school who had just recently come out as openly
gay. That made only a positive difference as living with him taught me a lot about love, human
sexuality, honesty, and acceptance. We hung out a lot, and the couch was pretty much his
home already, so naturally, it made sense for him to upgrade to his own room. I
knew that change was coming and nothing but excitement coursed through my
veins. This transitional period was interesting because we were already in the
flow of college life. It was no longer unfamiliar to us. The same rules applied
and the same culture followed. We would
eat dinner together at the dining room table.
Shortly after, the other original roommate moved out and a
friend of the new one moved in. She was an artist studying music at the time. I
knew the infusion of talent would create an entirely different atmosphere as it changed from two straight bros, to one gay bro and some artsy
girl I didn’t even know. Home became an adventure in and of itself. A lot of things
changed around the house. Her room now had a giant mural painted by one
of her friends. Parties had more dancing, more hookups, and more people I didn’t know. Dinners
changed from rice and beans to spinach salads, cheeses, and a bottle of red
wine. Before, I’d come home to talk about girls, drink beer, and figure out how
to build a stripper pole for parties (This actually happened #mylifeisbro).
Now, I came home to listen to acoustic guitar playing and trippy electronica music
while laughing hysterically at random improvisational acts meant to tease each other.
Conversations geared towards women’s rights, Tina Fey, and boys. I was actually
surprised at how much I had to say about boys, boys are jerks. Living with
artists, emotions ran higher. Both anger and love were more passionate. Fights
were louder and hugs were longer. I felt like I was in a Tarantino film right
before shit hits the fan and everybody dies. My favorite days were when she
would cook from a random recipe she found online, he would be writing some deep
self reflection piece, and I would be studying calculus on our family room
white board. Then, all three of us would stop what we were doing, and we would eat dinner together at the dining
room table.
He was the first one to graduate and I still had a semester
left. The new couch bum we had acquired moved in to replace him. I now lived
with two girls. She was studying biology and was the polar opposite of the artist,
now a theater major. She was a shy introvert who dared to share her space with
two pretty crazy extroverts. She's bold. All of a sudden, the house was ugly. We needed
a new rug with colors other than brown and we needed vibrant red pillows. We needed Christmas
lights, Katy Perry, and girly smell radiating from the bathroom while they got
ready to go out. This was new for me as I grew up with only a younger brother.
Parties and get-togethers had more girls and pillow talk. I was the token
server at said get-togethers. I would come home to deep three hour conversations
about life, the universe, science, drama, and of course, boys. Sitting on the
couch to watch a movie on Netflix suddenly seemed more intimate as we’d all
share the same blanket. I came home to more tears that needed to turn into smiles.
Wine was the elixir of truth, and I remember one time, we danced with pillows
to Frank Sinatra. Why we danced with pillows is irrelevant; the important
thing is that dancing with pillows now seemed to be perfectly encouraged and acceptable
behavior. At school I was an engineer, but at home I was an artist, a
therapist, a philosopher, a handy man, the football freak, and a humble servant for two beautiful queens. It was the first time in my life that I was so many things all at
once. I felt valuable. My favorite part
was talking about boys being jerks at the dining room table.
After graduating college, I moved to the complete opposite
side of the country to start my career. Now residing in southern California, I
didn’t know anyone when I originally got here. However, I didn’t really fear
not knowing anyone as much as I did living by myself. The cost of living here
is also crazy expensive so I did what any young professional twenty-something
would do…I went straight to craigslist! I found someone looking for a roommate
for a three month period of time before the lease ended. We met chatting with
my parents over bowls of spaghetti and two days later, I was moved in. It was
actually a pretty smooth transition. We made getting to know each other a
priority and established that open communication would be the law of the land.
He was my first friend in southern California, and the patron of initial
exploration of my new home. I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction. He
liked to work out and knew a lot about nutrition, so I would cook based on his
suggestions and we would eat dinner together
at the dining room table.
I knowingly set up my situation such that I had three months
to acclimate to my new work environment and hopefully meet people and make some
friends. It was a leap of faith really, but within those three months, I met
the Godsend that is my current roommate. We actually met about a month before
my lease was ending and there was a type of mystical comfort I felt the first
few times we talked – a hidden familiarity. I would say we were probably around
our tenth conversation, ever, when this happened:
- So where do you live?
- Oh I live in HB over
by Bella Terra.
- Word. I live close to work over by the mall.
- You like it?
- It’s okay. I’m thinking of moving out.
- Yea me too. When’s
your lease up?
- July 3rd. Yours?
- July 2nd.
(Moment of simultaneous epiphany)
- Roomies?
- Roomies.
Two weeks later we moved into our new place. We furnished it
with a couch we swiped up (getting it up the stairs took a third, superhero
friend that we have), and a coffee table we found on craigslist. Our living
room is so small that those two things, along with our TV, make it look full. I
will forever designate the occurrence of this living situation as a miraculous
act of God. Timing was on point and we laugh almost every day. It’s coming on
two years now, and the server ladies at the Chinese restaurant on the corner think that
we’re brothers. Sharing is easy because, at twenty-four years old, we both know how to
do it. If he listens to music while he’s studying he doesn’t have to use
headphones because we share the same taste in music. If I’m watching a movie or
TV, he’ll sit on the couch and watch it with me if he’s not busy. I come home to
relax and converse about anything ranging from Lil Wayne to Isaac Newton. The
other day he was sick and he asked me to get a thermometer and some soup. On my way
back from the Chinese restaurant, I realized that the server ladies are right –
we are brothers. That’s fortune cookie wisdom right there.
The invisible amalgamating force behind all of my space
sharing experiences has been one simplistic, powerful idea:
Family.
Throughout the course of my life thus far, family has been
an extremely influential factor in regards to who I am, where I am, and what I’ve
become. Reminiscing on all the people I’ve lived with, we created a family.
That condo in Gainesville, Florida was a home and it had a culture and an
identity. It was a living, breathing, and changing entity. Family is what makes
sharing your space meaningful, impactful, and worth it.
Some people say that you can’t pick your family but you can
pick your friends. I beg to differ. Family isn’t some default assignment of
blood relatives. That’s nature; procreation and genetics. Family is an idea – a
shared idea. Family is consciously created and developed. It is the mechanism
by which we unite and give each other the power of influence to fuse different
personalities. The crowded nature of family is supposed to destroy our
self-centered need for control and ownership, and transform it into the act of
sharing for the sake of life changing communion. Family is unraveled using the
tools of open communication, honesty, respect, compassion, forgiveness, and
love. Family is chiseled by confrontation, sacrifice, frustration and relief.
Family is fortified by loyalty, commitment, and dedication. You can choose your
family; you do it with the people you share your space with, whether it is at
work, school, or personal space. At this age, we should be choosing our family by giving
intentional and careful consideration to who we date; bearing in mind that they should be someone we can love and marry in the near future. To this day, I’m still
close friends with every single person I’ve ever lived with. They’re a part of
me, and a part of my family. I honestly hope to never have to live alone.
Perhaps that’s due to my extremely extroverted personality, but also because I
cherish my family. There are no bad experiences with true family, just challenging
learning opportunities and the domain of growth.
Tonight, we’ll come home from work, talk about our days and
crack some jokes. We’ll complain about the neighbors and plot creative ways to
destroy them. We’ll then cue the language of art with some tunes or an engaging
story on the TV. We’ll crack open a book or study for grad school. And
then, we’ll eat dinner together at the dining room
table.
#CaribBoyz
