Roommates
The first time I lived outside of my childhood home was when my parents sent me to summer camp — Camp Mulford… I was eight and it was an overnight camp. While my sister was also in attendance, it was two weeks long and we stayed in different cabins. After Mulford, I did Camp St. Charles — farther away and this time by myself. I loved Charles and the longest I stayed was for a month. After Charles was Camp Discovery… hated Discovery. Last but not least was Camp Hemlock… where I was camper and eventually counselor. I loved Hemlock and felt like the first moment in my life where I felt like an adult. My parents were smart to socialize me so young — by the time I went to college, I was not even phased by cohabitating with others.
I did a year of community college before I went to school. I lived at home with my folks. I ventured to UCF in 2002 and lived off campus at a spot called Jefferson Commons. My roommate was literally from Africa and had a snake. I two semesters with him before moving into an apartment with now one of my oldest and dearest friends, Jenny. 103 Alafaya. I did two and half years with not only Jenny but a childhood friend, Rob and a classmate Heather in a 4 bed/4 bath apartment. Heather eventually left and another roommate moved in. Rob and Jenny dated and broke up. I left my senior year and shacked up with friends Mark and Wes at their apartment not far away. I graduated, started performing and because I was non-union, I shared a lot of rooms. I met the platonic love of my life, Brian, while doing Seven Brides not long out of college. We shared a 10x10’ room with two twin beds in the suburbs of Akron, Ohio.
I worked on Holland America and shared a room with Khasan — a (good) diva and a sweetheart who went on to become a supernova. I moved to New York and sublet for a month in North New York, New Jersey with my friend Jonathan (RIP). I lived in Hells Kitchen with with another Jonathan for about a year. My first time not cohabitating was in 2008 when I worked for Disney — I had my own apartment in Toronto and then my own room on the ship for a glorious eight months. I came back from Disney and lived with my cast mate Ryan. 35-70 Crescent Street. At one point, I even opened my bed and room to my friend Ed as he got settled in the city. My other friend Jessica took over Ryan’s room when he went to do a contract. I eventually left to do another Disney contract. Another year of solo bliss — Toronto and this time Europe.
I came back from Disney and gave up performing — I lived with the loveliest human, Matthew. 410 Lenox. That was a magical time and apartment. I met my ex, Matt N., while we lived there. I would go back and forth between my apartment and Matt’s — he had two roommates as well, Emi and Matt S. Matt N. and I fell in love and moved in together in the apartment across the hall from my apartment with Matthew. Lots of Matt’s during this period. Matt N. and I adopted Tucker, an adorable if not too large for a NYC apartment dog. We lived there till the summer of 2014 before moving to Eugene, Oregon. In Eugene, we shared a two bedroom with another graduate student, Colin. He was an odd one. We eventually left and moved into our own house. 831 W Broadway. Still had a roommate… my husband. I loved that house — a charming Craftsman bungalow with the best backyard. Eventually stopped loving the husband for a variety of pronounced reasons.
That all ended … much slower than I would have preferred. I lived in our house for a month or two alone. I ventured to Los Angeles after. 1270 N Crescent Heights. I moved in with the angel of my life, Tyler, and lived for two glorious years in West Hollywood. I don’t love LA but I loved that apartment, and Tyler, and while I was recovering from some deeply heavy shit, I will always remember my time in LA blissfully. Eventually my time with Tyler ended as he fell in love and moved in with his boyfriend, Michael, and got a dog. I took the opportunity to make my return to New York.
I moved back to New York and had to think quick as my savings and budget were depleted — so I sublet a room in Hells Kitchen with a friend of a friend. 428 W. 47th Street. That apartment SUCKED. I basically lived in 8x8’ room for a year as my roommate had lived in the apartment since 2001 and it was very clear it was his space. I eventually left my job and that apartment and moved in with Raf and Scott. 560 W. 43rd Street, Riverbank (my first apartment with a name). It felt like a major upgrade from my previous spot but just before Covid hit, Scott moved to Los Angeles. I shared with the apartment with Raf at the height of Covid. Another special and very weird time. So many stories. Eventually our lease was up, Raf decided to buy (and graciously invited me to join) and we spent four months floating around the city until the condo in Dumbo was ready. We lived on Fire Island, a few random Sonders in FiDi, I spent two weeks in a Moxy and an AC Marriott, and eventually we shared a weird Airbnb in Fort Greene for a week before finally moving into an empty condo building in Dumbo. 98 Front.
Dumbo was the first time my roommate was also my landlord… since my parents, I suppose. Nothing but positive memories here (with exception to our annoying neighbor). A beautiful apartment with great amenities, that Raf graciously undercharged me for three years without a lease. He didn’t need to but he did, and I very much appreciate every moment of the arrangement. I’ve grown a lot in the five years I’ve lived with Raf. And along the way he acquired a home on Fire Island, Taylor (his boyfriend), and Baxter (his dog). I’ve known since this past summer, before he told me he was going to look for a bigger place, that our time was done.
I’ve been cohabitating with others since I was eight. Since that time, I’ve had 18ish months where I didn’t share a space with someone else. Even in that time, it was space provided by an employer — not my own, and not something I could grow into. I genuinely never thought I would ever be able to afford a place in New York or pass the series of endurance tests to secure one.
I’m a great roommate. I’m clean, quiet, and respectful. Early to bed, early to rise. Having a roommate can be incredible and it can also be incredibly draining. I’ve been fortunate to have more great roommates than not-great. Sharing a space teaches you a lot about compromise. It teaches you about communication, respect, and consideration. Cohabitating is a marriage in itself — without any of the physical love bits. My current apartment is the longest I’ve ever occupied a space — three and a quarter years, which is crazy to me considering I’m 40. I’ve also never shared space(s) longer than I have with Raf which includes my time at school and my marriage.
When I finally secured my apartment in February, I cried. I did and do not take it for granted. While things are going well in life now, there were many more times where I was not doing well and getting something like my own apartment was beyond a pipe dream. For a long time, I didn’t think I would ever recover from the disaster that was my marriage. I felt like I was going to float from room to room, roommate to roommate. I’m privileged and fortunate to have made it to this point.
So starting tomorrow I can for the first time, call the house my home.