Safety Pamphlets Will Be Handed Out At This Party…

Posted: December 13, 2011 in Anecdotes
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I must say I’m really enjoying this whole ‘not living with parents’ business. It’s something I’ve been involved with since I was about nineteen but it wasn’t until this year (some eight years later) that I actually managed to move into something that wasn’t a) student accommodation, b) inhabited by your current girlfriend’s family, or c) on fire.

I became all grown up and shit (and right there I’ve just knocked myself back several years) during the summer when I managed to move into a house share. I have since moved again into a friend’s house where the cost is much more but the acrid smoke in the air more than makes up for it.

Shut up! You all want one!

Here’s the thing: I love living on my own (semantics not withstanding). But for me it’s not just the obvious reasons that many people in my situation would list. You know, late nights whenever. Total control over the food-havings. A choice between pants or not pants. Playing loud music without a dick kicking from papa.

I don’t even consider it an embarrassing fact that I was in my late twenties when I managed to move out properly. You’d think it’d be one of those things one wouldn’t be willing to admit to on an open domain. Like telling everyone when you stopped believing in Father Christmas (hint: writing letters to Santa between shaves is a social no-no)

No I actually find it to my advantage. Yeah it’s sweet having parties when we want (ladies) and there’s nobody there to physically stop me from reaching for another beer. Those are all nice things, obviously.

But the thing I like is that I feel I can take a much more adult look at the situation. See, I’ve known people who have moved out of their parents place the yoctosecond they stop being a teenager. At this age moving out seems like the end of the rainbow. Having your own place means doing everything yours parents wouldn’t let you do. Without the repercussions of having said ‘rents rain down on you like a barrage of Warner Bros. pianos.

It’s a backlash of all those frustrated teen years spent doing things your Mum and Dad told you to do. And not once were you allowed to hold a sex party in the kitchen or a goat swapping party in the garden. Man, were they ever cool?!

But a few years down the line and your realise – with no hint of irony – that there were some home truths to all that parental nagging. Doing your own thing is fun (and liberating). Eating nuked food off a hand shaped plate that is actually your actual hand is the height of laziness but something that everyone does when they get their own place.

But maybe…just maybe…there is a reason why our Mum’s wanted us to tidy our rooms. Living in a finite space allows for only a finite amount of items to be strewn about before it begins to look like one of those black and white photos of an animal neglecting alcoholic’s flat. Waking up in the morning and putting your feet on what should be your carpet, but ends up being last night’s spaghetti, does not make you as cool as you think you are.

Pop quiz. Is this a) a teenager's bedroom, or b) the set of 'Mama Mia'?

And trust me boys, women are less attracted to you when they have to peel your week old boxers from betwixt their toes.

And your Dad telling you to “turn that racket down” before he slices your cock in half (just me then?) may be just him showing his age and not appreciating your angst laden taste in music. But it may also be because you have neighbours within close proximity. You might not have to see them in your day but your parents do. And they also have to explain the noise coming suspiciously from where your room adjoins theirs.

Don’t misconstrue this. I’m at that age where I know that living in a place is both expensive and a bitch to maintain. But I’m still young enough to appreciate that unless I’m in a committed relationship I can be diving nose first into someone’s nether regions without having to hide the evidence the next day.

So I can talk about hosting parties and all without feeling like a hypocrite because I think the crux of this whole post boils down to one thing: there is a difference between doing something you want to do (and have the means to do), and doing something just because there’s no one to stop you.

I certainly enjoy the reckless fun and uncertain future of modern bachelorhood but I’m also not so stupid as to not be able to show some decorum when it comes to people much older and more wealthy than me: landlords, neighbours etc. Then again, being homeless and cold is so bohemian (again, ladies).

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Sidenote: WordPress seems to be making a big deal about this being my 30th post. Hooray, I guess?

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