During my undergrad, I lived through the worst possible scenario for an introvert: one dorm room, six girls, three bunk beds, one bathroom and lots of hair. I liked everybody at first. But then, you know, they were still there after a week.
It wasn’t Daisy, who blared bad music all day; it wasn’t Beth, who stuffed snakeskin in our shared desk; it wasn’t even Christy, who styled her hair with a dryer every damn day at 5 a.m. It was all of them—just because they existed, and there was no escape. Constantly interacting with enough people to staff a basketball team was exhausting as hell.
I finally broached the horrible subject and bared all.
“Hi, my name’s Missy, and I’m an introvert. Please quit talking to me if you want us to live happily ever after.”
Roommate drama is a common rite of passage for college students. After all, the benefits of having a few bunkmates are usually worth the trouble: It’s cheap, and you can make some of your best friends that way. The trick is surviving when you can’t be alone, even at home.
The introverts I interviewed this week disagreed about this one. Some do well rooming with other introverts who “get it” and give them wide enough berths. Others don’t mind the company as long as there are doors to close. And still others would rather throw themselves off buildings than be trapped inside them with other homosapiens.
But all agreed on one thing: Introverts HAVE to talk openly with their roommates and explain their needs up front. That may sound a little too All in the Family for your taste, but good luck sharing house keys without it. We may socialize just fine for short periods of time, but we can only spare the energy for so long. At some point, our prattling roommates are going to sap the life from us, and our true introvert selves will have the last, at-our-wits-end say.
And it won’t be pretty.
So, to spare everyone problems later, lay it out now. Our levels of introversion are all different, so examine what you need and what you can compromise. The good news is your requests can be simple, from “Don’t talk to me in the morning,” to “This closed door means I need my space.” Chances are they’ll have a few requests too, and everyone will be the better for it.
You’ll also need to know how comfortable you are about sharing in general. A lot of us are spatial creatures, which means we don’t like people invading our physical space. Introverts are often fans of labels and identifying “yours” and “mine.” While our extroverted counterparts may view that as a plain, crabby unwillingness to share, we think it’s a plain, friendly respect for other people’s property, thank you very much. Explain that outright, as proud and dorky as you can manage: “I need you to ask first,” or “Don’t use my shampoo, dammit.” But, yeah, probably nicer.
I get it. Baring your soul sucks. But if you’re silent and suffer a houseful of chatty Cathys who are adorable at first and overwhelming later, you might as well prepare to winter a miserable season now, my friends.
And me? I survived and am still even friends with most of my old roommates. Now that I’m a graduate student, however, I work enough to afford my own apartment. It’s worth it.
