My first night at college was exciting. After moving in my stuff, wrestling with my bed, and convincing my computer that it could connect to the Internet, my parents took me out to a late goodbye dinner. We spent a few hours talking and eating, but I was looking forward to heading back to my residence hall and excited at the prospect of finally getting to know my roommate.
When I got to my dorm, I found the lights were all turned off, the TV was on, and my roommate was fast asleep under a mountain of covers. That’s right at 8:30 PM on a Thursday night, our first night on campus, my roommate was asleep, and apparently she’d been watching the evening news.
My world crumbled.
So much for those late night junk food runs, I’d dreamed about.Forget the idea of chatting while we watched our favorite movies and TV shows. We were not the match made in heaven I had imagined.
I, the person who knows the late night TV schedule like the back of her hand and thrives in the darkness, was stuck living with a girl who probably knew what was on TV in the morning (I have no idea) and always watched the sunrise.
My high school friends thought it was hilarious; an outrageous joke to tell everyone we’d ever known. I was the girl with an early bedtime.
By the time Christmas break rolled around I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to transfer rooms; I wanted a new roommate.
But I felt guilty.
If I left, my roommate would be assigned to someone else, and who knew what that person would be like. My roommate was perfectly nice; she didn’t deserve to be cast aside just because she liked to get up early. She never said it, but I knew that she would be really annoyed if I moved out.
And what about me? What if my new roommate turned out to be worse than my old one? What would I do then? What if I spent hours packing up all my stuff and moving to a new room, and I still wasn’t happy?
It wasn’t an easy decision.
If I could have moved in with one of my friends or if I was a member of a sorority it might have been simpler, but I was scared. I’d heard so many horror stories from my friends and family that I was terrified my new roommate might be an absolute nightmare. So, I stayed. Although I might have been unhappy, I kept telling myself, it could always be worse.
Now, looking back, I can’t help but think that it might have been better.
So, if you’re debating switching rooms look at the bright side of things, a new challenge is a new story. And you might meet your best friend.