Last night, while I was watching Ugly Betty, I stumbled upon the most unsettling of updates. I found that my suite mate, Taylor, was assigned a roommate, which is something neither of us anticipated. And not only was this intruder infringing upon our fundamental right to have an apartment to ourselves- he was a heterosexual! That’s right- as of right now our new roommate is a glasses wearing heterosexual who works at a Wendy’s! I can only think Gay God is punishing us (but mostly Taylor) for our past wrongdoings.

I always knew that getting a new roommate would be a possibility. I mean we do live in a three person apartment and Northeastern is a communist institution which means they’d never let only two people live in it. But I never thought it would actually happen!

As soon as I learned of this news, I ran to Taylor (AKA I shouted from my bedroom) and informed him of our impending doom. We began to think of all the ways having a roommate would change our living dynamic. We would no longer be able to blare Beyonce at 1AM, or be able to have manic episodes or reenact classic Real Housewives brawls, and we certainly wouldn’t be able to have our apartment looking like the set of Girls. And by that- I mean we couldn’t be nude 24/7.

Taylor and I have become quite accustomed to our way of living. We appreciate the freedom to have people over whenever we want (which we never do because we have no friends) and we like being able to share things without worrying about whether or not it is returned to us. And while it is certainly nice to expand your horizons, we can’t help but feel like we must take preventative measures and oust this bitch for he even gets here.

It shouldn’t be too difficult. I mean once he knows what it’s like to live with us (mostly Taylor) he’ll be running for the hills. In fact, Taylor and I decided to brainstorm a list of reasons why Taylor is HORRIBLE to live with. We highlighted Taylor’s living habits (and how his bedroom looks like a crack den on Hoarders),  his sleeping habits (he sleeps 14 hours a day, but can’t fall asleep until 3 am) and his overabundance of snacks that could come crashing down on us at any moment. And we briefly touched upon some of my own shortcomings- such as my inability to close cabinets and my tendency to eat jars of peanut butter in a single sitting.

Like 60 year old Republican males, we’re comfortable with our way of living. But I’d like to think we’re courteous enough to forewarn our new roommate of the frustrations of living with us.  We’re essentially the roommates from Hell and it’s best our new roommate learns that before he unpacks all of his bags. But if he does come, we’ll somehow survive- I mean, I’m not sure Taylor will, but I have a single so I’ll be okay.