Except for, maybe, in New York City, where a killer apartment can substitute for lack of chemistry and an intolerable living situation can almost be romantic when it's the abode of a scruffily bearded Brooklyn hipster. Here, my collection of bizarre, unfortunate anecdotes of what happens when love (or, let's be honest, lust) meets the weird world of New York City real estate: Taking the Heat I met a guy at a friend's birthday, and we really hit it off.
That’s not to say you two cannot have a roommate, but it may add to the strain of moving in together (which will probably be stressful enough as it is)., I remember thinking before I broke down his wooden bedroom door in a rage, slamming my whole body against it. I don't remember if someone actually told me or if the silence clued me in, but I freaked out. When we started hooking up soon after, we debated breaking the lease but decided we could casually date while living together. We spent the next two years hooking up on and off and making each other's home life a living hell.The night ended with the girl storming out of the house in tears and Sean leaving to sleep at a friend's. Sean and I had moved in together as roommates but quickly became more. How dare he bring someone into his room during a party he knew I was at? For a while, it was nice to have someone to kiss and cuddle so nearby. She was my best friend, shopping partner, brunch buddy, shoe soul mate, and an all-around awesome gal pal.Part of what made us such great roommates was that we were so compatible.