I’ll just come out and say it: I hated dorm life. I thought it would a great part of the college experience, and in its weird own way, it was. That doesn’t mean it didn’t suck any less.

To make a long story short, I have never had to share a room with anyone before. For the first ten years of my life, I was an only (and content) child. Then my sister was born. While I bear her no ill will, I do remember telling my parents that if they even thought about putting her in my room, they would find the crib pushed out into the hall. What can I say? I was an assertive kid.

Regardless, I decided to trying live with a complete stranger for my first year. And while I actually did get along with that stranger (shout-out to my freshman year roomie, Angelica), we did technically live in a breadbox together. And during winter quarter, thanks to a lack of overhead lighting, in a depressing cave. Also, I had plotted several times throughout the year to kill her alarm clock by accidentally dropping a book on it, but that’s another story entirely.

And sharing a bathroom with five other girls? Don’t even get me started.

So by sophomore year, my friends and I were already planning our escape in the form of an apartment. I can’t tell you how many visits we made to buildings all over Evanston, but we finally found the right place at Ridge and Church. Sure, it was a reasonable walk away from campus and I would no longer have the supposed luxury of a meal plan, but the idea of living off-campus was really appealing. Even if it meant I had to buy my own groceries. Plus, I would have my own room.

And yet, while the apartment was great and a good deal, I learned yet another lesson: I had no business living with four other people at one time. Yes, there was five of us in total. It wasn’t a tight fit, but it wasn’t always the most comfortable of situations either. Personalities can clash with so many people around and waking up to a living room filled with beer bottles and randos crashing on our couch is only funny after so many times. And by funny, I mean greatly irritating.

So again, after another year of lessons, I had to adjust my living situation. This last time around, I’ve downsized my number of roommates to two good friends and now live in a relatively nicer (hence, more expensive) place closer to campus. While I consider it another step up from last year, everything has its up and downs. After living on the first floor for the first time ever, I could dedicate a column to the ridiculous drunken conversations I can hear as people stumble pass my window.

It took a few tries, but I finally got it down. While I’m not the greatest roommate ever, I am actually capable of co-habiting with others. Go me.

Medill senior Dani Garcia is the PLAY editor. She can be reached at [email protected].