Roommates and running shoes

Posted by Jack McDermott

We've all experienced it: the neat-freak, the not-so-neat-freak, the just plain freak, the gamer, the druggy, the drug dealer, the chronically late person who sets 10 alarms and sleeps through every single one of them, the perpetual sexiler (and the perpetually sexiled) and, last but not least, the one who isn't even your roommate but is there all the time.

Living with roommates is possibly one of strangest and hardest things to deal with when coming to college. Most of us are just completely unaccustomed to the idea of sharing such close quarters with another person, especially someone you barely know (or two, if you get stuck in a triple…sorry freshmen).

Eventually, you get a chance to choose who you live with, but that's not always a walk in the park either.

I'm a junior and I've had my fair share of weird roommates, but suddenly I find myself in one of the weirdest situations of all. I am the sole male in a house of five girls. That's right, the token dude.

Before I came to Skidmore, the only girl I had ever lived with was my mom. And really, for all intents and purposes, she doesn't count. You would think that living with all girls would be filled with sugar, spice and everything nice, and that perfume would strangle you every corner you turn.

Well, there certainly is a lot of perfume, but actually, it's surprisingly messy.

For example, I have never, in my 21 years, seen so many random shoes lying around. Except maybe in a shoe store, and that might even be pushing it.

There are shoes everywhere: they are scattered throughout the living room, under the dining table, under the couch, next to the TV, on the stairs, probably on the porch and on the windowsill.

I'm completely serious, I found a pair of shoes on the windowsill.

I have, at most, three pairs of shoes: flip flops, running sneakers and regular everyday shoes. Oh, and the three-year-old pair of dress shoes sitting in my closet.

Between the five of them, they have 84 pairs of shoes. I counted. I can't wait until winter when there are 20 different pairs of furry Uggs lined up next to the door.

I'm sure by that time I'll be able to teach a whole Scribner Seminar on the difference between wedges and stilettos, flats and espadrilles and how to properly tuck your skinny non-hipster tight jeans into your boots. Not that I would ever want to.

But don't get me wrong, I am good friends with these girls and I 100 percent chose to live with them. But when you are sitting at the dinner table after a long day of classes and someone says "These PMS pimples are killing me," you can't help but think this is going to be quite a semester.

Jack McDermott is from Mars, but he lives on Venus.

SGA election results

Welcome to the new Skidmore News