when wine is your saviour

See, the thing is, I don't hate my roommates. They are perfectly nice people, people who would probably be decent customers, maybe they wouldn't tip very well, but they'd at least be decent enough to look you in the eye and maybe mean it when they told you to have a nice day.

I don't know if we'd ever meet if they didn't happen to be the roommates of my boyfriend. I'm sure there's lots of people he would never have gotten to know except through my arm-twisting. Just by looking at them, there's nothing super horrifying about them. They seem like perfectly nice and reasonable people.

Over the summer, my friend encouraged me to pilfer her dvd box sets of Buffy The Vampire Slayer while dog-sitting for her pooches. I figured she was just trying to goad me into sticking around the apartment so the dogs didn't feel lonely, so I zeroed in on Season 4, the year Buffy and crew attend Sunnydale's college (and by some random chance, held plenty of vamps and other baddies to keep the Scooby gang busy), and settled in for some catch-up.

I had watched plenty of Buffy in my tv heyday, but somehow, most of the college year (where some avid fans claim Buffy jumped the shark) I missed. Or maybe didn't want to watch, since college and going back to school was a sore subject with me. Now what most people pick up on pretty fast is the way Joss Whedon (creator, head writer, director) was able to take everyday horrors in a young woman's life and make them supernatural opponents for Buffy and her gang. Oftentimes, this results in some hilarious dialogue of the misunderstanding kind. And, it creates a universiality that touches the viewers.

One such episode could not have been more of a bulls-eye into what I had been going through.

First, the Backstory:

So after some debate and exploring our options via game theory (Eric's minor in college) I decided to move into Eric's apartment back in May. I had lived alone for two years. He had lived with this couple (a man and woman in a relationship) for nearly three years. I had met them, spent time with them, drank with them. I knew full well what I was in for.

Some part of me, the optimist in me, the romantic side of me, really believed and hoped that we would become the world's most amazing double date. The four of us would be in some blissful arm in arm romp through life and I would be happier than I have ever been. We would all be saving money, having fun, and happy.

Well, that didn't exactly happen.

Within a week, I was acting like an intolerable brat. I hadn't fully taken into account the fact that I had never really had roommates (what I then defined as people you live with but can't really tell them how you really feel about shit). I was busy with school and work and barely had enough time and energy to take off my shoes at the end of the day. I had boxes everywhere, and after a week, the girl roommate (a notoriously and self-professed anal geek for cleaning) put my books away for me on the bookshelf.

Well. I somehow overlooked the fact that she had done it to be nice and because I didn't have the time...and got really possesively angry. To make matters worse, I was too nice to say anything to her about it, but I did tell my boyfriend, and bitch about it to a friend who I happened to be on the phone with when I discovered this atrocity, and Eric went into the kitchen where the roommates where hanging out and talking. When she asked him if I was upset about the books, he said yes. He answered honestly. Well, I don't know if I was more mad about the books or the fact that Eric can't give me a straight answer if his life depended upon it. I stormed out of the house and walked around for a while, fuming.

That was just the first week.

Back to Buffy:

So I'm sitting back on my friend's comfy king sized bed with the dogs at my feet and watching Buffy in college and there's an episode in which Buffy is convinced her roommate is a soul sucking demon. She likes Celine Dion, which is for sure demonic! She's perky and stuff! She makes a lot of noise!

And I couldn't help seeing the parallel in my life. For sure, my roommate and I have very little in common. Mostly--annoyingly--we talk about Eric. Sometimes we talk about the weather. Sometimes even, we may jump into gossipy talk about the other friends they have. Hardly ever did I feel like this was someone I could call my friend.

As I watched Buffy, I saw the similarities with their group and ours. Of course, I'm the most like Buffy. Though sometimes I have a little Cordie and Willow mixed in. I think as the Buffy watching went on, I saw a lot of Anya's qualities that are similar to mine (I'm prone to saying truthful out of place nonsequitors and often feel like an outsider of the gang). Eric's like half Giles and half Zander. Same for the guy counterpart of our roommates. Smart, but ready to laugh and make a joke out of anything. The girl roommate is a lot like Willow. She's nice and flustered and smart and always has an answer for things. One of their friends is a dead ringer for Cordelia. She's beautiful and annoyed when everyone's not paying attention to her.

So I brought these dvd box sets home and we spent the summer watching them. We got through til Buffy suddenly has a little sister and then our collective interest waned (much as mine did when they were first aired). The girl roommate though, she was still interested in watching them til the bitter end, and part of me had to accept that maybe, just maybe she was desperately searching for things to have in common with me (and yes, maybe she just liked it and wanted to see it through to the end).

So as I've been on vacation and around the house more, her and I have spent a lot of time together. She's also on the last dwindling days before her month long vacation expires. We had been talking here and there...but in the last couple weeks, I really feel like there's less to make up about her that's proof of what an evil roommate she is...and more to explore about her. Maybe I am just tired of always resisting everything, always putting up defensive walls around myself.

Seven months in, a new year on the rise, and I can't help thinking well, it's about damn time you just admit it. You live here. This is your home. Act like it. Enjoy it. And quit questioning everything. You big jerk.

but dammit if a little wine doesn't make one feel merrier.

and, by the way, Buffy's roommate really was a soul sucking demon...but you know, I'm aware that was just television.