I first met my current roommate, Josh, two days after he moved in. The light shining under the bathroom door clued me in to his arrival, but I didn't have the guts (or general interest, really) to meet him for a while.
When I was finally bored enough to get to know the dude, I knocked on his door and he let me in. His room, newly inhabited, was already dirtied with scrunched up socks, wife beaters, and his prized XBox 360. The scent of Axe and XBox plastic was still fresh, undimmed by the horrors of pot smoke, booze, and shitty late night sexcapades that were mere weeks away.
"Hey, I'm Patrick, nice to meet you, man," I said.
"I'm Josh. 'Sup?" he said.
"I was just checking in to see if you need any help moving in." I said.
A pause.
"I'm pretty much moved in, man," he said.
"OK, cool."
Another long pause.
"Is that Modern Warfare 2? That game is so fucking cool."
"Yeah, I've been playing it a lot," he said.
"OK...What's your major?" I asked.
"Political science," Josh said.
Oh God. My roommate is a bro. Just a regular fucking bro. He's completely generic and boring in every single way.
************
I saw him tonight when I got back from the Alamo Drafthouse downtown. We exchanged our first words since that night over a month ago. I was walking down the hallway to my room, only to catch him as he left his.
"'Sup," he said as he gave me a bro nod.
"Uh, hey," I murmured, quickly turning the key to open my door.
Sometimes people are so monumentally mismatched that you're better off just ignoring each other.
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