Illustration by Andrew Gillespie
We all know we’re not supposed to make snap decisions about people we've just met. We shouldn’t judge anybody by the clothes they wear, their gender,
their lack of gender, their skin color, their weight, their sexuality, which
holiday they celebrate, what kind of food they eat, or whether or not they’re
missing teeth. I can't hate somebody just because they laugh like my childhood
babysitter who forced me to eat SpaghettiOs every day. Nor should I make
unfounded decisions about folks who use the word “essentially” far too often.
At the same time, making decisions based on our past
experiences is an important life skill. We should respect our gut feelings. That’s
called “good common sense.”
This confusing merger of don’t-make-snap-judgements-but-trust-your-instincts
is very challenging for me when our community interviews new housemates.
I won’t lie to you. When I’m deciding who to live with, I
judge the heck out of people. And, hopefully, they’re judging me too. They should judge my kids behavior, our parenting style, the food we cook and the cleanliness
of our house. They should also judge the cadence of our speech, our eye
contact, and our body language.
We've got two primary steps to our housemate courtship.
First we invite the person over for dinner. If they enjoy the feel of our space
and they’re enticed (rather than frightened) by our vivacious family, then we
schedule an interview. If we all continue to enjoy each other through the
dinner AND the interview, we might invite the person to live with us.
But the process is exhausting. Especially when we go through
it with multiple people.
I am not sure if it is helpful or if it's a personal downfall that I’ve lived
communally for 20 years. I would not generally consider myself a “jaded” human.
I am hopeful and positive overall. But, in terms of… The Interview… all my experience with the come-and-go of housemates might be a
detriment.
While attempting to judge these humans, I’ve caught
myself sorting their personalities into categories represented by previous housemates.
For example, while I converse with "house-potential-Jane" my thought process
goes like this:
She’s got the
responsibility-style of John, but I’m pretty sure that socially she’s a Fiona.
When it comes to relating to the kids, she’s a full-on Aaron. She deals with
personal care like Lisa, and for spatial aesthetics she’s got so much Chris
going on, it’s uncanny.
But… when strangers remind me too much of previous housemates, I have to be careful not to lean
too heavy toward the plus or the minus for reasons that are clearly unfounded.
Just because Orlando has that oddly familiar habit of pulling
out loose eyelashes, it doesn’t mean that he’s also going to regularly bring home rained-on furniture that he
found on the roadside for free. Or that he’s going to use excessive conditioner
and never clean out the shower drain. So… why do I get that nervous feeling?
Choosing housemates might be making me neurotic.
I enjoy human
challenges. But I like to handle them when they’re actually occurring. Trying to predict “potential tribulations” makes
me edgy and paranoid:
What-did-it-mean-when-his-face-did-THAT-THING?
Was he squelching anger? If I keep poking, what happens next? How will he act
if I make him REALLY uncomfortable? And WHY did that question make him
uncomfortable? He’s uncomfortable, right?
I’ve been accused, on occasion, of going “too deep” with my
questions. I believe the words dissect,
probe, and interrogate have been
used to describe my interview style. I’ve learned to reign myself in. I don’t
wanna scare good people away. But I’m 38-years-old, I’ve got 4 kids, and I no
longer have the time or energy to live with somebody who has idealistic visions
of their own capabilities, or what it means to live communally.
I’ve basically never dated. But I imagine I’m acting similarly to a 40-year-old
who’s still grappling for a life partner. This ain’t my first rodeo. I know
what works and I know what doesn’t, and I’m trying to decide in only a few interactions
where a stranger falls on that spectrum.
This person will share a house with my children. Her
toothbrush will reside close to mine. We will share the same shower. We will
brush shoulders or hips numerous times a day while rushing to make breakfasts
in a tiny kitchen before 8:00 a.m. with 4 children snipping around our feet,
amplifying the chaos in a visceral way. We will attempt to maintain composure,
if not cheerfulness, while we desperately attempt to nourish ourselves and look
presentable before heading to places where we are expected to be on time.
Trust me. You don’t want to choose the wrong person for these
situations.
After the interview we ask our potential housemate to step
outside or go home, and we all discuss whether or not we want to live with that
person. Believe it or not, I am not the
pickiest or most skeptical person in our household. I am deeply grateful to
make these decisions communally because usually, by the time I’ve judged this
human through both a dinner AND an interview, I’ve guessed and second guessed
myself so many times that my “character palate” is tainted by too many flavors.
Every time one of my housemates outlines either a “red-flag” or a positive
attribute, I agree wholeheartedly. With both. Even when they contradict. I try
to keep my mind open, but now it’s so open it doesn’t close enough to grasp on
to anything. Everyone is right. This person is perfect, and this person is
terrible.
And, ultimately, that’s probably true. Because most people
who even make it to the interview will be wonderful in some ways, and terrible
in others. Just like those of us who already live together.
I’ve met a hearty portion of my best friends by living with
them. Most of my friends are family because they’ve raised my kids with me,
made hundreds of dinners with me, and watched me lose my mind for good
reasons and for stupid reasons.
I feel lucky to have experienced the-intimacy-of-living-together
with so many people.
When I was younger I moved a lot. I’m adventurous, but I
don’t have the money or autonomy for place-based adventures right now. So
living with lots of people is the way I change it up. We learn each other,
break each other in, and love each other the best we can. Eventually someone will
move on and it will all happen again: The next laugh. The next resentment. Some
food I’ve never tasted, a sense of humor I’ve never encountered. A passive
aggressive note on the kitchen cupboard, a euphoric moment. A snuggle while
watching Star Trek on the projector. An egg burrito when I didn’t have time to
make breakfast. An unexpected hug from an intoxicated musician when I wake up
to pee at 2:00 a.m.
It’s wonderful. It’s crazy making. I’m cynical and I’m
hopeful. I’m exhausted, and I’m truly excited about our next adventure.
