Wednesday, February 06, 2008

Living with girls

Living with girls is tricky. They are complicated sorts with things one has to take into consideration - there are places that knives go and places they don't go and sometimes a cup of tea is exactly what they need and sometimes exactly what they don't and how dare could you suggest that.

It makes me go misty eyed about my old flat shares at university. I lived with a chap called Pricey as a sort of old couple. There were other people in the flat, a constantly stoned Geordie and a tiny chap who technically lived there but actually spent most of his time at his girlfriends. The shower was in his room so this worked out well. He had a giant telly with sky so you could watch television while having a shower which was an interesting experience.

Anyway, back to Pricey and I. We quickly became a proto-couple. While we both had various girlfriends we cooked for each other if we were about and would often just to to the pub to talk nonsense. It was very nice, the closest we ever came to a fight was what sort of sauce would we make for pasta. My tomato based one or his cheese based one. We both enjoyed cooking so it was more of a 'no it's my turn to cook' in a very polite way.

Because we cooked so much - from raw ingredients - we lived like kings at university. I don't think I've ever eaten so well since. I'd bring up game or ducks from my mothers house and he would get all sorts of interesting supplies from the supermarket he worked at in the evenings.

We liked the same stuff, would go to films and have a nice time. Girlfriends would drift in and out of the flat but not disturb the manly harmony. Sadly I left Scotland to go to London and Pricey couldn't leave his beloved country.

I suppose any future flatmate or girlfriend is going to be compared against the gold standard of Pricey and, well they tend to fall rather short.


Gorilla Bananas said...

The late Tony Randall should be the patron saint of this blog. Like you, he was not gay.

Louche said...

*doffs cap*

Anonymous said...

Went to visit my roommate's boyfriend -- when his [male] roommate walked in he said "Hey asshole; you didn't do the dishes." Roommate grunted and affirmed he would. End of story.

But when I asked my roommate what happened to my wee shampoo bottle, I came home that night to a five page letter from her sitting on my pillow listing every perceived slight, misstep and malfeasance she had experienced from me in the last however long we'd been living there together.


Louche said...

BigBouquet - The fact that the note was placed lovingly on your pillow really makes it for me. Are you still living with her?