Cultural Universals: Housemates

So far in this blog I've made a big deal of the pretty tiny cultural differences between the places I've visited. So perhaps it's time to consider one of the cultural contants that unites us. In fact, there seems to be one social convention that applies to all sentient life forms across the universe: The obligation to gossip about changes in your housemate's love lives. It seems that no matter who you are, where your live, or what you believe, when someone you live with gets a new significant other certain duties immediately arise. Often, this process begins well before the first drunked pash or awkward morning.

To fulfil your duties as a good housemate there are four steps. Circumstances might demand that you skip a few steps or some other similar variation, but where possible you should complete each of the following tasks to the best of your ability.

Step 1: Gossip

In some housemate relationships (those are relationships that your housemates get into, not relationships that you get into with them - a totally different kettle of fish) it can be unclear whether something is genuinely going on or whether it's just the human equivalent of brownian motion. During this uncertain time, your obligation is to secretly gossip about the two (or more, in especially interesting cases) parties as much as possible. This is especially important if there is even the remotest possibility that they might be spending that moment together. Ideally, you should have considered and discussed every possible outcome of the impending liason in detail, so that no matter what happens you can claim that you saw it coming.

Confirmation of your initial suspicions often leads to the second phase.

Step 2: Meddling

Confirmation that some kind of romantic interest is afoot comes in two common forms. In the first, your housemate is interested in someone and is unsure about how to proceed. In the second form they manage to hook up with someone without your assistance, in which case you would skip this step. Assuming that they are pining for that special someone, convention requires you to meddle incessantly. This may extend from simply giving advice (no matter how unqualified you may be), to setting up meeting opportunities between the two parties, all the way through to dubiously legal activities involving involuntary late night minivan rides. Your personal misgivings about the virtue of the budding relationship or the prudence of your required course of action must be put aside. You are not merely some reliable or disinterested friend. You are a housemate, and a sacred trust has been bestowed on you to meddle in your fellow housemates romantic lives. Do not forsake your duty.

Of course, your housemate might well embark on a new romantic adventure without your assistance, rendering this step obsolete. As discussed in step one, it's important that you're as familiar as possible with the developments in the budding relationship, so this should come as no suprise. It is theoretically possible that they might have found new love without your knowledge, but this represents a complete failure on your part and you would have let the institution of housematery down. So, assuming that you've seen the writing on the wall, let us continue.

Step 3: Awkwardness

As soon as you have reached even a credible suspicion that the liason has moved from mere pining or planning to actual intimate personal contact, you are obliged to confront your housemate with your suspicions in a way at a time that inconveniences and embarrasses them as much as possible. It is important to retain deniability in your confrontational approach, so that if they were actually out all night helping their ailing grandmother to set up a facebook account you can save face. Consider the following example: During breakfast, your housemate Susan has just walked through the door after a suspected night of romance with her new parter Ashley. A strong opening gambit is required. Perhaps something traditional and classy like:

"So, Susan. Out all night. How's Ashley?"

The advantage of this approach is that if Susan replies "I don't know, I was helping Grannie with her Bebo account.", you can say something like "Oh yeah, I know, but I was wondering how Ashley was. Just in general. And I thought you might know." Smooth.

But in the more likely scenario that Susan looks awkward and starts fumbling for the cereal, it's time to step things up. Perhaps:

"In the sack. How's Ashley in the sack?"

You can go straight for the kill and ask how Ashley was in the sack in your initial greeting, but you'd want a high degree of confidence before taking that approach because if Susan was with her grannie you've significantly overplayed your hand.

The goal here is to obtain confirmation that the happy couple have hooked up, while also embarrassing one or both parties as much as possible. Once completed, the final stage awaits you.

Stage 4: Hilarity

In stark contrast to the moral and logistical support you are expected to provide in step two, step four involves extracting as much humour from the new relationship as possible. More cynical writers would suggest that the whole process exists merely so that you can extract maximum hilarity in this stage, but I'm much too nice to say something like that. Remember that jokes about the new couple will become boring in a matter of mere days, so you need to make as many of them as you can while they're still fresh and exciting. A time honoured strategy here is to reframe everything that happens in your housemate's life in terms of their new love interest. Sarah receives a text message? Surely it must be from Ashley. Sarah is tired? Perhaps they're exhausted from tandem bedroom gymnastics. Sarah leaves the house? It must be a romantic tryst. Sarah is hungry? Pregnant? In this way you can make just about any aspect of Sarah's life a source of joy for you and misery for her.

Soon the novelty of these jokes will wear off and you, having discharged your duties as a housemate, can return to normal life. Whenever I laugh at something that wasn't a joke in a way that makes me look callous, or stare in bewilderment at US currency, or drive down the wrong side of the road in a car park, I can always draw comfort from the things that bring us together, whoever and wherever we are.