Separately, they’ll come to me with questions about what I would do in a particular situation, or to ask what I think about a particular idea, while struggling with their own demons regarding life and love. Two of them have acquired serious girlfriends in the time since I moved in, and the other two have made several attempts at the long distance bit. There is not, nor will there ever be, romantic interest on my part regarding any single one of them, yet to tell other people that I live with four boys immediately draws the smile of implicit "knowing." (Yup, that’s right, you obviously know much better than I – I wasn’t even aware that I was taking turns sleeping with each and every one of them. Thanks so much for the update!) Everyone, in truth, has their own lives, and it often strikes me to simply "put on a happy face" and to clown around, rather than to let myself really open up emotionally

I still struggle with understanding my relationship with this house, and figuring out how this living situation fits in with my wants and needs. Comments are made, in jest, almost every time I prepare food or straighten up the house, about the role of women and my "Betty Crocker" nature. I shrug off these comments, feeling like I should really fight the inherent sexism in these quips but also knowing that I would rather live in a peaceful and fun environment. It’s the sacrifice I make to enjoy the opportunity to shoot equally obnoxious comments right back. Who says I can’t have a little fun with them, too? But daily, I play around with ideas of running away to the beach, going to school abroad, traveling, and writing – knowing that I can do it all and that my life in the frathouse is temporary at best, just one more adventure for my memoirs.