Let's talk about flatmates.

"My roommate says, I'm going to take a shower and shave, does anyone need to use the bathroom? It's like some weird quiz where he reveals the answer first." 

- Mitch Hedberg (Gotta love him). 

I have lived in the same flat in Paris for four years. It's big, close to school, and has a view of the Eiffel Tower from both my bedroom and living room windows. It's a boring area, mostly filled with rich old people, but the owners of the café downstairs know me and bring me my near-daily café crème before I even order. But that's not what this post is about. 

In the last four years, I've had twelve flatmates. Yes, twelve. My landlords often rent it out to visiting students who stay for a semester and then leave. There have been Americans, Frenchies, a Norwegian, Egyptian, Brit...the list goes on. 

In my final semester here, I am, for the first time ever, living with boys. Malcolm and Ted are both (essentially) from England. And they're younger than me. At first, I didn't notice any big changes from living with girls. But I've come up with a few. 

When I was living with girls, I never...

1. Went into the kitchen to find them doing a push-up contest because they were "bored."
2. Went into the kitchen to find my flatmate and his date eating dinner. 
3. Walked in on my flatmate topless. 
4. Had a topless flatmate wander around the flat. 
5. Heard stories from classmates about my flatmate getting into a fist fight at the party last weekend.
6. Consistently had beer in the house. 
7. Thought twice before playing "It's Raining Men" while getting ready to go out.

As you will see, none of these are generally negative. One thing about this, too, is I don't get woken up in the middle of the night to hear about my flatmate's boy troubles. For the past few months, I've slept like a baby.

Before I go grab a beer...here's some pics of the place. (Pic up top is the view from my living room window).