The case for having roommates (even when you can afford to live alone)

Notes from my experiment in a one bedroom apartment

I’ve enjoyed living communally for more than a decade now. But every so often I have one of those days where I long for a place where I can sing in the shower at any hour, leave dishes in the sink, and walk around in whatever state of undress suits me. I wonder whether I might be more productive if I came home to a peaceful, empty apartment.

And of course, society in general - and my father in particular - asks when I’m going to ‘grow up’ and get my own place.

So when an opportunity came to sublet my friend’s one bedroom apartment in New York City last summer, I figured it was time to try living alone.

My friend’s apartment was a dream. Soft light, great views, tasteful mid-century modern furniture. I moved in on an afternoon in June and picked up some vegetables to make myself a basic curry.

As I started cooking, I realized I was missing most of the ingredients I needed. Subconsciously I’d just assumed any home would already have avocado, olive, and coconut oil; ten basic spices; honey, maple syrup, apple cider vinegar, soy sauce, miso, and almond butter. A big community house kitchen has dozens of spices, oils, and sauces that have been bought over the months, and it’s continuously being replenished.

A very normal amount of fresh food to have lying around ready to turn into delicious meals.

So that was an adjustment. Another trip to the grocery store and $200 worth of ingredients later, I thought I had a decently stocked kitchen. But I’d end up repeating this experience over and over again while I lived on my own.

I couldn’t get over the insane inefficiency of having a kitchen for one. Almost everything I bought would go bad before I could finish it. I had to learn to buy a pint of milk instead of a gallon of milk. I was appalled by the amount of trash I generated - which I then had to haul to the creepy, smelly disposal multiple times a week. When I live with roommates, I usually end up taking the trash out a few times a month, since I’m rotating the duty with other people.

At Casa Chironja in Puerto Rico, we ordered bulk produce from Producé, a service that delivers locally grown fruit and vegetables. With six roommates, I would cook a couple dishes a week. Every meal would be multi course, with different people making salad, protein, sides, and maybe mixing up some drinks for the cooks.

Cooking with friends often involves spontaneous dance parties.

Cooking on my own was boring and took forever. I’d text friends to see if anyone was free to go out or come over, but no one was available last minute. I ended up eating cereal for more meals than I’d care to admit.

I got the memo and planned a dinner party two weeks in advance. Even though my friend’s one bedroom apartment was big by New York standards, the table seated a maximum of four people. I invited a screenwriter I’d just met and two friends who worked in entertainment, thinking they’d have a lot to talk about. On the day of, the two friends canceled, leaving me with too much food and an awkward dinner with the screenwriter, who joked I didn’t have to ‘trick’ him into a date. The leftovers spoiled before I had the appetite to eat them.

My world shrank by living alone. If two people drop out of an eight person dinner last minute, you still have a full table. If you haven’t had time to make plans, your roommate might have planned something you can join. And if you want your alone time, which I often do, you can always retreat to your room and do your own thing.

What was the big benefit to living alone that I was missing? 28% of Americans live alone. Nearly one in three people. There must have been advantages I wasn’t seeing.

I got an email from building management: a mandatory inspection of the AC system was going to happen on Wednesday, and someone needed to be in the apartment all day to let the AC tech in. If I’d had roommates, we could have split the hours we spent at the house waiting for the technician, but instead I had to cancel all my meetings for the day and stay at home.

I woke up wanting to work out at the gym nearby, but couldn’t leave the apartment. I did a hip hop dance workout on Youtube I’d once enjoyed doing with my housemates in Puerto Rico. It’s a lot less fun to do it on your own, and I quit halfway through.

Twerking with friends in a back yard is much more fun than twerking alone in a one bedroom apartment.

As usual, I didn’t have the groceries to cook what I wanted, so I ordered from DoorDash for the second time in my life. Somehow three tacos cost me $50.

I went on a few dates. It was nice to think that if I liked someone enough to invite him home, I’d be able to bring him to my ‘own’ place and not have to explain why I have roommates in my thirties.

Then I realized most of the people I’ve dated over the last few years were friends of my roommates, who I’d met when they came to some event at our house. I missed that pool of vetted friends-of-friends as I downloaded the apps and started swiping. The dates were, to a man, disastrous. Who knew how many QAnon conspiracy theorists are lurking in the NYU faculty!

I missed coming home to postgame my bad dates with my roommates over a cup of tea. I missed being able to talk about work, family, life with people who knew me deeply because we shared those spontaneous cups of tea. I missed being exposed to new films my roommates wanted to watch, and sharing events I knew they’d enjoy. I missed cooking for more than four people.

Yes, I got to walk around without putting on pants, and could listen to trashy music at 7am without worrying about waking anyone up. But these were such infinitesimal wins against a mountain of losses.

I had sublet the apartment for three months, but after three weeks I’d had enough. I wasn’t doing better work with the ‘peace’ of my own place. Having to do all of the shopping, cooking, cleaning, and planning ate up my days and exploded my budget.

A healthy home cooked meal for five costs less than a Doordash order for one.

I understand not everyone is wired like I am. Maybe you’re better at motivating yourself to do workouts on your own, and prefer going out for meals than cooking. If you love living on your own, I’m happy for you - it is the best thing for some people.

But I couldn’t help but wonder if some people who experience the same things I did living alone don’t realize how much better their life could be if they lived with friends.

A lot of people have bad experiences living with friends in early adulthood, when people are still figuring out how to pay their own bills and otherwise grow up. You might have had a nightmare roommate in your early twenties and breathed a sigh of relief when you were finally able to get your own place. You might fear that choosing to live with others in your late 20s, 30s, 40s, and beyond will mean regressing to that bad experience you had when you were 21.

But there is a reason you have to pay extra to rent a car when you’re under 25. Statistically, young people make a lot of poor decisions. Biologically, the part of your brain associated with reasoning and thinking before you act doesn’t finish developing until your mid twenties.

If you live with people who have grown up a bit, you might find a lot of the things that drove you nuts about roommates when you were younger no longer apply. Instead of someone who finishes the milk and leaves the empty carton in the fridge, your roommate might replace a milk that’s running low, and pick up that chocolate they know you like. Instead of bringing home a random girl they met at a bar, they might bring a cool friend over to dinner who ends up becoming your friend too.

I’m glad I tried out living on my own for a little bit, because it helped me appreciate how joyful it is to have roommates. If any part of you feels like your life might be a bit better if you shared it with more people, I’m willing to bet it would be.

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