Will You Take the Double?
Updated: Mar 2
By Gi Ferrigine
With you? My roommate of already the past three years? Of course! How could I not want to double with you? Again! For the fourth time! As seniors!
I mean I won’t lie, I really had my sights set on a single in our EC suite next year — after all, you know I recently decided to start treating my love life more seriously since we’ve reached the threshold of acceptable ages for becoming engaged. But no, it’s so fine! Just expect the ‘shared’ aspect of our shared living space to also apply to the marriage potential I glean from Tinder and plan to have over regularly.
Illustration by Mwandeyi Kamwendo
Really though, it’s totally okay. There are just so many upsides to living in a double as a senior. I even made a list of the pros! True, it’s substantially shorter than the list of cons that I had prepared in my Notes app for when this inevitably happened, but here they both are:
I get a built in friend! Sure, that’s essentially been the case for the past three years, but we’ve come so far from the painful icebreaker date our moms set up for us at Hungarian during NSOP. We’re basically inseparable! How could we not be when you never leave the fucking room?
Of course I don’t care at all. Your presence is so calming, especially when you excessively sleep fart during your three hour midday naps. And I’m sure I can look past all the times you ate my gummy multivitamins (don’t think I didn’t know you did this), if you can get over me texting you “That’s life. Or I guess death, lol” when you told me your dog died last year. Stanley, was it
Honestly, though, it’s like we’ve circumnavigated Columbia Housing all over again, just to find that, big surprise, we’re getting screwed over. But not by each other, silly. That’s only 4 out of 7 days a week. By Big Alma — don’t forget who your real enemies are.
We get to live in the oh so coveted, laundry lacking, hot n’ heavy party hosting, black mold encrusted East Campus. Whoopdeefuckindoo. Can I offer you a hot plate in these trying times?
Ugh, sorry for being such a cynic—you know that’s how I deal with my emotions. Yeah yeah. Emotional incommunicability. For a Columbia student. Groundbreaking.
What I really mean to say is thank you. For being the person I’ve shared the last three years of my life with, the person who’s ushered me into adulthood (literally, you dragged my lifeless carcass home after unlimited margs on my 21st last weekend), and the person who I will, God willing, probably see very infrequently for the rest of my life. It is you my, uh friend, who I get to spend the waning days of artificial life in academia with before heading out into the loneliness of single adulthood in New York City.
And so here we are, united in solidarity, at the beginning of the end of our time at this gloriously godforsaken institution. On the precipice of braving, if not yet the real world, the bass ackwards system that is the housing lottery. And the time will come to face what lies beyond 114th through 120th, because if I’ve learned anything from this place it’s that goddamnit that time will come and its name is: “I’m An English Major With Minimal to No Experience in Finance But My Uncle’s Friend is the CEO So Please Hire Me So I Have Something to Tell to My Aunts at Family Parties Other Than That I Wrote for Columbia’s Blue & White Magazine. Did I Mention I Went to Columbia?” Yeah.
So when we are ready to take on the real world, the world where days start with weak coffee and subway rides next to a guy telling you that his cat is a wizard, and end with three PBR’s, leftover Chinese, and really bad sex… at least we’ll be in it together. And maybe that time around it’ll be in a studio apartment and not a 190 square foot cubicle.
By Nora May McSorley
I really, really wish I could say yes. Like I’d literally love for my every waking moment (minus those when I’m dozing in Butler or running to class 10 minutes late) to be spent in the presence of another human just as easily annoyed and strung out as me, but sadly, I think I have to decline. It’s for your sake, really; I’m looking out for you. I’ll be the first to admit it, I can be a lot sometimes.
You see, I have this weird thing. I don’t know if there’s really a name for it per se, but it involves sleep screaming? It’s really not that big of a deal. I guess if you’re cool with waking up intermittently throughout the night thinking you’re next on the chopping block in an ‘80s slasher movie then yeah, no biggie. But some people don’t necessarily dig that. I know, I don’t get it either. But hey, if you feel that way too, I totally understand.
Hey, along the lines of movies, what’s your favorite again? Right, right, the sinking ship. Well, mine’s Die Hard and I have to watch it at least once a day. It really just keeps these bland and #basic days interesting. And no, I’m not exaggerating the once a day thing; if anything, I’m underestimating my tolerance for all things Bruce Willis. So the point I’m trying to make is: if we’re going to be roomies, you should probably try to get on board with the whole Christmas-Eve-terrorist-take-over- thing. It won’t be that hard once you’ve memorized the thing line by line like me. It never gets old!
If you’re somehow cool with all that stuff, hopefully this stuff flies too! I am what some people would call a ‘compulsive sharer’. And by ‘share’ I mean I take it upon myself to borrow out of other people’s closets because I just assume they are doing the same with mine. Not that they would get much use out of my neighbors’ ‘90s-Era hand-me-downs or the clothes I’ve “borrowed” from my grandma over the years. Oh, don’t get too freaked out about the air-quotes. It does make it look like I steal from my grandma, doesn’t it. Don’t worry! She’s way too old to notice and honestly, who wore it better grandma?
What can I say? I’m just your classic old-soul. And you’re what, again? Pisces, right…I knew this was going to be tough.
Also, just a heads up, I’m starting to do this weekly purge thing where I go 2 days–no sleep, 5 days–all sleep. It’s like a gradual cleansing experience; super rewarding. My goal, fingers crossed, is to get to a whole week of no sleep. I feel like that might not fit with your schedule, though. You can totally try it with me, but it might be tough for us.
Gosh, when I put this all together I sound like a total drag! I’m really not the absolute worst to be around. But to live with? That’s debatable. I don’t mean to be annoying and I know you don’t really want to live with Sally because she smells like raisins. It’s not that I have anything against you, honest. I would seriously love to fall asleep each night knowing your head is exactly 10-feet away from mine and your shoes are inching dangerously close to my side. And those accidental glances right as you’re taking your towel off, god I’m going to miss those!
But I have to put my foot down. I don’t want to “figure it out later” and I don’t want to hear it will “all work out in the end.” You’re not Gandhi and even if you were, I still wouldn’t want to room. I need my space this year. And yeah, I know you have a boyfriend and you’ve never had a single before and you beat me to dibs, but…
Fine, let’s flip a coin.