Living with friends can either be the worst or the best experience you can ever have. I have had my fair share of roommates ever since the age of 18 (nearly ten years ago omg I am so old). I have had strangers for roommate. Friends for roommates. And even people from church as my roommates. I think what they say is true: you never really know someone until you live with someone.
This is why sometimes it might be a good idea to live with a significant other before being clouded by the wedding bells. When you live with someone, you discover some of their worst habits. Some of them can be tolerable, some can make you feel like you're living in a depressing jail cell that smells like rotting meat.
For one year, I lived with my best-friend.
This girl is my ride-or-die. She's my sister from another mister. She basically everything I ever wanted in a friend. So I thought, "it's gonna be a fuckin' blast living with her!"
I remember a few days before we laid our heads in our new three-bedroom home, she said, "I hope you're a clean person."
And I was like, "hell yeah I am a clean person!"
My last roommates actually used to complain about how clean I was. Some roommates I had probably couldn't tell the difference between a mop and a broom. But me? I sweep, mop, scrub, and wash dishes.
But there was something about my best-friend I hadn't learned: she was pretty obsessive and particular to how things had to dealt. Washing dishes had to be a specific process. The toothbrushes has to be on the left, not the right. Contact lenses, contact solution, and maybe the occasional hair tie was okay on the bathroom counter -- hair products were not. And yes, we shared a bathroom.
I liked things organized by height, she liked things organized by relevancy. I washed dishes with warm soapy water, she had to wash dishes in steamy hot water with a bit of bleach in it. I hated the way my dishes smelled like bleach, she thought it was an absolute necessary process for dish cleaning.
I was pretty flexible and OK about not having things my way. But for her? It HAD to be her way. Tension was building up in the home, and our friendship was in a bit of a strain. But that strain broke out in a physical altercation, screaming, and tears. All because we couldn't agree on how we should use the bathroom counter space. Thankfully, the next day, we were mature enough to realize that our friendship was far more important than which side the toothpaste should be laid.
We realized that both of us were in the wrong, and we owned up to that. By the way, I still love her very very much. I just probably will never live with her again. EVER.
It was certainly a learning experience. With every new roommate is a new learning curve.