Things that rule about living alone

messy kitchen 4

I’m a single man and I live alone. I also inherited a cat recently. Sounds pathetic and depressing, don’t it? Well guess what? It’s the best thing that ever happened to me and here are seven reasons why.

Nude. I am nude ’round the clock. I wake up naked, I make breakfast naked, I’m writing this naked. It’s brilliant. Can you remember the last time you were naked for an hour let alone a whole weekend? Probably not, and that’s why you’re so stressed out. There’s a dude living in the building across the street, and he’s nude too; sometimes we wave to each other because we’re both living the dream. Get your own place and get nude.

Hair. That’s my hair in the shower, and that’s my hair on the floor; how my hair got in the crisper I don’t know, but at least it’s mine. The last person I lived with had curly black hair, and occasionally I’d find his little clock springs in places I didn’t want to find them: my underpants drawer for instance. When that happened I’d wince and then deposit a strand of my pin-straight hair on his pillow. Those days are over.

Bless this mess. And bless my balls while you’re at it. This is my mess and if you don’t like it, don’t drop by unannounced for a cup of tea. The sink is full of dishes, the toilet looks like a pint of pineapple juice was spilt on it, and the cat’s litter box is filled to the brim with antique turds. I couldn’t be happier.

Party On. If I feel like a glass of pinot noir at 7am, who is going to stop me? No one. When you live alone you don’t have to worry about judgy roommates turning their noses up at the empty Jack Daniel’s minis building up round the plughole in the shower, or your afternoon kip in the hallway.

Music. If I want to hear ‘Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm’ by The Crash Test Dummies on repeat from midnight till four am, guess what, I can. I’m not saying I do, I’m just saying I can if I want. Living alone means listening to what you want, when you want. It also means never having to hear your ex-girlfriend warbling along to Eddie fucking Vedder’s uku-fucking-lele album ever a-fucking-gain.

Sex. Whether you’ve got a lover in your bed or you’re just having a particularly ferocious wank, living alone means making as much noise as you want when achieving orgasm. Let’s face it, nothing kills the mood faster than slapping a hand over your partner’s mouth because someone might hear her screeching on her way to Xanadu. Get your own place and let the rumpus begin.

Watching TV from the toilet. ’Nuff said.

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