Opinion >> Wednesday Hump

The Roommate Double-Double: Careful Where That Appetite Takes You



Logic is the devil of language. And you want to know why? Because it would make perfect sense for you to fall in love with your hookup’s roommate. Talk about a classic mix-up.

Have you ever woken up after a night of (self-proclaimed) “slay city” and looked across the room only to find the most beautiful Lamb of God imaginable lying in the other bed? I know what you’re thinking in that situation, and I’m right there with ya. Yeah, shit son, you went for the wrong roommate. Now? Welcome to the hardest phase of time management you’ll face in your entire college career: swiftly making the transition from roommate number one to roommate number two.

Upon first meeting each other, you and roommate number two overlook the, “Duhhhhhh, what’s your major?” bullshit, because you very clearly can’t have each other. Cordial schmordial. But, regardless, there’s instant attraction, and before you know it, outta nowhere, it turns into need it, want it, gotta have it. The attraction is mutual, because hello, it makes perfect sense. It’s like solving a Rubik’s Cube — shit finally lines up and then you suddenly can’t suppress the desire to completely fuck it up again. But anywho, I digress.

The worst part is when you actually succeed in hooking up with roommate number two. Because, inevitably, you’ll get caught. It’s always this drawn-out, painfully elaborate process that starts out innocently with roommate number one coming over to your house and asking where you bought these “specialty” condoms. Your casual reply of “Pshh, I bought them” is the last nail in the coffin. Turns out they’re these super fuckin’ rare, can-only-get-them-in-China, heavy-duty, keep-the-babies-AWAY condoms. To which you try to immediately recover with, “Uh, ya. Haha. Ha. Funny story, true story, actually, they started selling them at I.V. Market, who knew right? WHO KNEW?”

But I mean, once things start moving past the classic OTPHJ (over the pants hand job) stage, it starts becoming, “Listen, my roommate is in class, get your ass over here, NOW.” And then you’re free to bang, and not just bang, puhlease. Forget hearing your standard cup caking through the wall. Ha, child’s play. We’re talking hearing-long-distance-headboard-banging-against-the-wall status. Heyo, ‘sup world.

You think you’re so suave in keeping it on the major down low. But then shit starts getting all kinds of uncomfortable. In front of roommate number one, you casually mention to roommate number two that they should “draw you,” and it’s like, “Oh, God, not actually. I meant the app!” But even Draw Something wants you to be together. Every three coin word is soulmate … or marriage … or skeeball … okay that was a wild card, but all you want is that goddamn neon color package, so you have to pick them. God. Life is hard.

And then, despite all this, roommate number one is still way too confident in the hookup relationship, because they somehow remain incredibly oblivious, when everyone at UCSB (including Chancellor Yang) has caught onto what is going on. So number one starts shit-talking to number two. “Hey, bro, I’m wearing Velcro shoes and still getting laid while you go home and beat it tonight.” And all the while, roomie number two is thinking, “Uh, yeah, to the nudes your girlfriend sent me last night. Yeah, yeah, later bro.”

Then, when all three of you are in public together, the two of you secret lovahs get close enough to start passionately making out, but end up high-fiving instead. ‘Cause as much as you want to finally expose the relationship, it’s like, what are you supposed to say at this point? “I accidentally slipped it in?” Yeah, and I “accidentally” parked my car in my neighbor’s garage … claaaassic me.

But the real turning point is when they start to make you think all kinds of crazy shit. Like, woah, I would even watch American Idol for this person. Holy shit, I might even go so far as to pick a favorite and start arguing with the judges. No. No way, this is not real life.

Once that happens, you’re done for. You’ve committed and that only means that roommate number one is bound to walk into your classic afternoon delight sesh. And while you try to chalk it up to “just hanging out,” we all saw the girl’s tongue moving around like she was searching for the straw in her fourth Long Island Iced Tea.

Just, ya know, go for it, but tread lightly. This isn’t a Disney movie for Christ’s sake. Get real. We all saw how fast Snow White ditched those seven dwarfs after Prince Charming finally gave it up.

Daily Nexus sex columnist Elizabeth Brooks is biding time until she realizes her own roommate took her column to heart.

[media-credit name="Natalie O" align="aligncenter" width="1024"][/media-credit]

Print Friendly

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>