Space

“Space is big. Really big. You just won’t believe how vastly hugely mindbogglingly big it is. I mean you may think it’s a long way down the road to the chemist’s, but that’s just peanuts to space.”

You may recognise that quote from Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

I’ve been spoilt, really. I’ve had a few flatmates when living abroad, and we got on fine. I can’t think of any moments where we didn’t just get on with it. I moved back to the UK and lived with my sister a bit. Then I moved out and lived on the first floor of a converted bungalow, so that the only thing I shared with the downstairs landlord was the kitchen. This again was fine - separate everything, use of the kitchen whenever, and again, we got on fine. We were both very singular people. He liked playing on his PS4 and I liked watching whatever I wanted whenever I wanted on telly. I think the only problem we had was that twice in 4 years I forgot the rent (he only took cash and there were no ATMs near me as it was in the middle of Bumblefuck Nowhereville). However, cash in hand and a case of beer in apology later and he was happy again.

Now I’ve moved and sharing with a new person and I’m beginning to realise how stifling sharing can be when the person you’re sharing with thinks you’re living together, not just sharing a house.

Things to take into account: I’m a very singular person. I’m an INTJ. I’m introverted. I like long stretches of time by myself. In fact I like Alone Time more than people full stop. After a long day of working with people who are very friendly and like to get on with others through the medium of chat, I just want quiet time to myself because (1) I’m all talked out and (2) I’m all people’d out.

When I arrive home however, it seems I have to engage in the human ritual of explaining how my day was at work (which cannot be interesting to anyone else, bearing in mind I work in payroll) and then to listen to someone else’s day at work (see above point - not interested in the slightest. I think the only time I could be interested in someone’s day at work is if they worked for NASA).

Eating in peace is a physical impossibility - apparently you need to explain what you’re cooking and how at each step. And then when you just want to sit down and eat, you’re expected to do it in the shared living space (front room) and continue talking or share some telly. Except no-one else likes the kind of telly I want to watch (and am trying to catch up on) so I end up wasting my night watching something we can both see (without spoilers for shows we both watch but we’re at different points in a series, for example, or some series I’ve already seen but they haven’t had the chance yet and I have the boxed set).

This is mostly me, I know that. I’m not used to sharing my time once I get home from work because I’ve never had to. I’ve either lived alone or lived with a flatmate who’s as independent as I am and doesn’t need me. This has always suited me very well. Now I just have to get used to living how it is. I’m not happy about it, but it’s a trade-off. I can’t afford a place by myself and I can’t give up this house as my flatmate can’t either. A deal is a deal, and it’s done.

I am exploring reasons to just stay out of the house after work - don’t ask me about the whole ‘going to a club’ fiasco, because I don’t have the energy and to be honest I don’t know what else I expected from that conversation. Suffice it to say, I have to get out of the house more. This does not help my problems of (1) having Alone Time or (2) catching up on the TV I’m trying to watch, but it does at least alleviate the feeling of oppressiveness when at home.

Case in point: I’m in bed and it’s 11am on a day off. Reason I’m in bed typing this and not using the table in the front room or the dining table in the kitchen, with a pot of tea? Because Housemate is downstairs (they never seem to go out) and once they start talking at me I won’t get anything done. I’ll need my massive headphones on to drown out whatever they’re doing and I’ll be seen as anti-social - and interruptions happen whether I put up the most obvious of social cues or not. And then, here in bed, I get a message on my phone: "are you awake and are you alright?" How about you go find something else to think about besides me - I neither need nor enjoy being checked on every time I don't appear in the front room, for fuck's sake. If they could just understand that I don’t share a house to be social, I share a house to have a home I can relax in, and at the moment I can’t even do that, I’m sure things would be different.

But like I said, I can’t afford a place by myself and I can’t leave them high and dry with a new place when they can’t either.

And that’s probably more than is fit to print, but hey, I need to get this out.