Amazing, wonderful, supportive, style-cramping sidekicks.

I haven't posted anything about my home life in a long while. I guess that's because I equate life with being social, and now that I have roommates I actually have a home life.

I still firmly hold the belief that it is less cool to live with roommates than to live without. However, my quality of life has drastically increased thanks to my two roommates, The Starlet and The Booklet. They are truly awesome, because I get along with them. I am not at all an easy person to live with, but these two girls...well, when describing them to others, I often liken them to "the two little sisters I never had." I attribute much of our dynamic to the age difference: they're twenty-two and fresh out of college.

Seriously, my life is better with the girls at my side. I feel like a superhero with two adorable, fun-loving sidekicks. They're there for me if I forget to feed the cats or if I lock myself out of the apartment when I go running. They're there to talk to at the end of the day. They buy me dinner when I get canned. They got me flowers for my New York Birthday. I no longer wander the streets of the City alone; now I have my dear sweet girls with me, and together we explore lovely Brooklyn under the pretext of our brunch club. We go out together, we stay in together... We share....like.... EVERYTHING. Even feelings, and that's saying a lot for The Booklet. These two personify what roommates should be.

Okay, so there's that.

Now I've been doing a little of that dating thing again. And...well...I've managed to avoid it thus far, but eventually it's going to come time to bring someone to my apartment.

Panic.

So, happy as I am living with these two wonderful gals, why the panic? I'm not ashamed to live with them; quite the contrary! But I must confess that I am a little ashamed that I am twenty-eight and live...you know...with two roommates. In Brooklyn. It's not exactly the life I pictured for myself when I set forth on this adventure. I figured if I was going to live with roommates I would at least live in Manhattan. And if I was going to live with roommates in Brooklyn it wouldn't be...you know...two of them.... two...22 year old...roommates...

See, I tend to like people who are slightly older than me (know anyone cute and in their early thirties?). People who are generally a little more...ahem..."established" than me. People who can afford solo apartments and who are old enough that they just don't want to do the roommate thing anymore. Hell, sometimes I think I'm too old for the roommate thing (but I'm so much happier this way).

But I'm happier this way! And our rent is dirt freakin' cheap!

This strikes a panic in me! What do I do when it happens!? How do I explain all the tofu in the fridge (they're vegetarian and vegan girls, respectively), or Starlet's gigantic electric toothbrush that always falls out of the medicine cabinet or Booklet's intense breakfast-cooking regimen right outside my bedroom door? How do I explain the lack of nice furniture or decoration on the walls (this is their first apartment and I came from a studio)? How do I have some nice person sleep over in my big giant bedroom with my adorable cat purring on the foot of the bed, only to have this nice person run into a 22 year old on his or her way to the bathroom?

OH MY GOD. My room is next to the kitchen...What if I bring someone home and we're...you know... and.... OH MY GOD!

Oh the horror. I can't expose my dear sweet little girls to that. I can't face their innocent, darling little doe-eyes after something like that.

And then, what happens when they meet this hypothetical person? What if my adopted little sisters don't like him or her? What if it's a her and they freak out? They know, but it hasn't been in their faces yet. We all know I'm not looking for my next great romance too...what if they disapprove of my casual approach!? Oh the conflict! Oh the angst!

Panic. Quiet, dull panic, but panic nonetheless.