I have been living with a lot of different men in the past couple of years. Hmmm… I can’t even remember how many actually! Some stayed longer, some left rather soon, sometimes I was the one leaving. Sometimes we’d fight, sometimes there were even tears, sometimes we’d get upset – but most of the time my relationship with them worked great.

I’m rather used to washing guy’s clothes, folding shirts and boxers, cooking, cleaning the flat, getting groceries (fuck, I sound like a freaking Stepford wife!) – after all I have been doing that for so many men. However, these men have been and some still are my rocks. If by now you not only think that I am a Stepford wife but that I’m promiscuous as well, it might be a good time to say that I am actually talking about my guy flatmates.

Guy flatmate – a completely different type of companion/friend – the one that sees you in your pyjamas and you see him in his – and it’s not weird, the one you can watch loads of bad TV shows with, the one that knows everything that’s happening in your life – whether good or bad (not because he’s nosy, because you talk, because you talk a lot, and his only option is to listen or to jump out the balcony), the one that laughs with you when something is funny and comforts you when something goes bad (briefly tough – no time for drama). I’m not saying every flatmate is like that (God knows I had my share of flatmates from hell), but I guess I’m good at picking the right guy to live with (if only I was that good at picking the right guy to date – my flatmate would have a lot less of: listen to her or jump out the balcony situations).

Guy flatmates are more upfront, no sugar coating is necessary. While women tend to over-analyse everything: from which shampoo to buy, to why that guy from last night still hasn’t called, a guy flatmate is gonna tell you to pick the first shampoo you see on the shelf, and that the guy hasn’t called because he was too drunk to remember your name, let alone to save your number.

A guy flatmate calls you on your shit, no passive aggressive behavior drama. When you do something very wrong – he’s gonna let you know, whether it hurts your feelings or not. But you’ll know where you stand and he’s gonna lay it out pretty clear for you. That’s actually a trait I like the most about this companionship.

A guy flatmate doesn’t have PMS – he might not completely understand why you’re crying one moment and laughing the next, or why you just had 10 chocolate bars one right after another; but at least he won’t snap at you, and leave you wondering whether it was because you still hadn’t returned his pink dress or because you spoke to Tom way too much last night, knowing that Tom was his type.

You feel safer with a guy flatmate. Like when I walk alone in KL – men stare, blow kisses or whistle as if I was a dog, but when I go somewhere with my flatmate – there’s suddenly this huge amount of respect and no one even dares to act how they would if I were alone. Or when I can’t park properly in Ferrara, because this asshole in front of me parked stupidly. So he watches me struggle, and yells: “Where the hell did you learn to drive??” – and my guy flatmate feels he should protect me, so he yells back: “fuck off, where the hell did you learn how to park??” (it goes without saying that then we had to drive away as fast as possible, because the asshole was bigger and stronger than the both of us).

“Tell me if you want to, don’t tell me if you don’t want to” – while chicks wanna know every single detail from your last night’s date (where you guys met, where did you go, when did he crack the first joke, did you laugh because it was really really funny or just to be polite, did he wear nice socks, what did he order – because that says oh so much about a guy, what’s his horoscope sign…), your guy flatmate will probably be like: “Good?”, and when you say: “Yes!” he’ll say: “Cool”. End of story.

A change of plans doesn’t require a 5 hour notice. Feel like you’ll be staying in this night but then at the last minute you decide you wanna go out after all? – No pb, if your guy flatmate is up for it – he’ll be ready in 3 minutes – no special “5 hour getting all dressed up to go around the corner for a beer” required.

Truth to be told I did have fabulous chick flatmates as well, but I do think a lot of things are way simpler if you live with a guy. And these things do not apply to every guy flatmate, that’s just my experience. So I’m really happy I had the chance to live with such great men and really freaked out about what’ll happen when all of them get married and I’ll be left to choose between living with the men I date or cats (considering my dating history, I’d probably be better off with cats).


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