Farting IS Funny
It turns out that children have been right all along – fart noises ARE the height of humour, and trapping someone’s head under a duvet while you noisily expel the spiritual remains of yesterday’s dinner IS romantic. You have to accept this, you see, otherwise you have only two other options: inflate like a balloon until you explode in truly fetid cloud of methane; or feel pure disgust at the person you’ve chosen to shack up with every 15 minutes. Humans are gross, he’s gross, you’re gross, you might as well laugh about it.
Compromise fucking sucks but you have to do it
He’s clean; you’re messy. You don’t drink during the week; he likes to neck a few bevvies nightly. He stays up late; you’re like Cinderella, if Cinderella fell asleep with all her clothes on at 9:55pm every night, snoring loudly. You’re going to have to work through these differences and find common ground otherwise this partnership is going to founder fast. Important things: ear plugs, deep breaths, the realisation that independence does not disappear with cohabitation.
Independence does not disappear with cohabitation
This one gets its own bullet point because: the two of you do not have to merge likes and interests and habits until you’re essentially con-joined twins, moving as one and breathing as one. Maintain your differences – remember, you fell in love with each other, not yourselves. Or maybe you did fall in love with yourself. A healthy dose of self-appreciation goes a long way. And you’re pretty great. At least, he thinks so.
Time apart will prevent homicide
I like to lock myself in the bathtub. He locks himself in the world of FIFA. Sometimes I’ll go jump up and down for 3 hours at a time to Taylor Swift while he smacks the shit out of a small red ball (not masturbation; cricket). Find what works for you, separately, then go do it. Not only will you miss each other, but you’ll have things to talk about when you’re back. WARNING: may result in conversations about cricket.
You can teach each other things
Humans are gloriously multi-faceted, and you’ll be amazed by the things you can learn from each other when you’re stuck together. For example, maybe he knows how to get grass stains out of white fabrics? Maybe she is adept at the art of Finding Lost Things? And tax codes and flavour combinations and the best way to spend a Friday night in London. And sex stuff, too.
This is make or break
If you can live together and manage to fully resist the desire to decapitate one another then that’s it: you can do it. You’ve passed the Human Compatibility test, and even though it’s a test you’ll have to re-sit everyday, you’ll find it gets easier and easier. You’ve already done the hard part (moving in, I fucking hate moving).
Fighting is best when you get it over with
Much like the farting point, don’t let it stew. Don’t sit on it. If you’re mad about his toenails or he’s mad about the way you move things, let it out. Have a barney, storm off in a huff, drink something delicious and then come back to each other. Then, you probably won’t have the same fight again. Or maybe you will. There’s always Jeremy Kyle.
Dividing is conquering
There are now TWO of you to take on the household tasks which means you don’t have do it all yourself, which is basically the whole point of shacking up in the first place. You do the laundry, he does the vacuuming, nobody empties the dishwasher and you both live happily ever after in your palace of dirty dishes.
You can always have sex
Nothing on TV? Have sex. Can’t get to sleep? Have sex. Collapsing under a combination of work stress and financial debt? Cry, then have sex. Who can say THAT about a normal flatmate? Well, maybe you can. You live YOUR life.