I Have The Best Roommates In The World (Volume 3458)

“You’re better than that,” says my roommate, as he dries the dish he’s washing and looks at me sternly, the words of his “come-to-Jesus” speech still lingering, as we stand in the kitchen. Goddamnit. He’s right. He’s always right. I hate it when he’s right.

“You can do whatever you want,” he repeats. “You’re a grown woman, and you can make your own decisions.” His voice softens, and he looks me in the eyes with something like love.

“Just know that I will judge the SHIT out of you for it. Always.”

I haven’t hugged him that hard in awhile.