When I moved in with my boyfriend, one of the first things we did was have sex in the living room. Why not, right? No one to barge in on us, no one to tell us to keep it down. It was my butt on my sofa, and it was... well, to be honest it was a bit uncomfortable, my sofa is too small for that kind of thing. But you get the idea, and anyway it was symbolic. Finally, I was free! Free of dealing with the worst parts of housemates: everyone's sex lives.
Worse than dishes politics, worse than nighttime food theft, worse than finding your wet pants in a pile on top of the washing machine, the sexual liaisons of the people you live with are easily the most difficult and complicated part of shared housing.
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And here's why:
If you're honest, there's barely enough space for the people who actually live there
Once everyone's got their boyfriend or girlfriend into your 2-bed-turned-4-with-no-living room, you've got a mini party happening in the kitchen where no one's having fun. Tits are elbowed, dinners are burned, tensions are high, but all anyone wants to do is enjoy a nice evening with the significant other/whoever they found on Tinder on the way home from work. It shouldn't have to be awkward, but it is.
Your options are limited
Only true jerks do it in the shared house shower. Same goes for the lounge, and let's not even discuss the option of banging on the kitchen table where three other human adults eat and prepare their meals. Sharing a flat means you're reduced to dormitory-style quiet sex on the bed or, like, the ground immediately beside the bed (dangerous). And unless you have some kind of shared google calendar or a complicated scrunchie-on-the-door system, you never know who's home to overhear you, either, so wild Herbal Essences advert-style theatrics are out.
You end up feeling kind of involved
So you're minding your own business with too much takeaway and very old episodes of Take Me Out, just Saturday night-ing for England, when your flatmate stumbles in with a new conquest. He's weird looking. He makes a comment that could maybe be interpreted as slightly racist. He opens the fridge and—oh hell no—eats your last Babybel. Cut to 20 minutes later when you're still on the couch but feel like you're in the middle of a roommate/racist sarnie, as the sofa vibrates with their bed and the sounds of their shagging commingle with Paddy's cheeky asides. It's gross.
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It's basically impossible to stealth-wank
BZZZzz. BZZZZzzzzzz. BZZZZZZZZZZZZ GO AWAY EMILY I'M BUSY... DOING... SHUT UP EMILY GO AWAY. Bzzzzzzz.
The 'we're all in this together' mentality
You know when one flatmate is all loved up and suddenly your house is like a honeymoon sweet, full of sexy vibes and giggles and expensive meals the rest of you can't afford? But you kind of have to let it happen, because this is nice, and Julia's been single forever, and okay so have the rest of you, but let her have her fun, don't be jerks. And then there's the reverse: when one flatmate breaks up and suddenly no one else can get some, or Jess's feelings will be hurt. Oh, she'd never say so, but you can tell from the look in her eyes. You can just tell.
You can't reaaaally talk about it
So someone's constantly banging around in the kitchen late at night cooking 12am 'pasta surprise'? A quick 'can you please stop cooking while drunk, Sara?' should sort that out. But what if they're banging around in their bedroom with the door closed? That's not the breeziest conversation to have with that girl you found on Spareroom.co.uk. Plus, bring up people's weird O-noises and offence tends to be taken.
You're probably just as bad
And you know it. Leaving your newish boyfriend in your bed when you run off to work, letting him take up the hot water while your flatmate has a shower. Ringing the buzzer at 3am because you and the girl you found at the houseparty are really getting along but you can't quite find your keys. Having anniversary anal at 4 in the afternoon on a Sunday while everyone else is trying to eat a roast.
The point is, when it comes to matters of love and sex, we're all basically disgusting, and your flatmates are the ones who get to see it, up close and too personal. There's not much to do except judge not lest ye be judged... and you probably will.
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Follow Monica on Twitter @monicaheisey
Picture: Eylul Aslan
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.