For the past 2 and half months, I've been living with 5 other young men. A bunch of post-graduate boys who rent a house in Ravenna. I mockingly called it, THE HOUSE OF DUDES. Never did I intend to stay here long or get attached, but damn it, some of those dudes were really cool. Even though I'm moving into a studio on Capitol Hill, which I've always wanted, I'm genuinely gonna miss the House of Dudes. No, I won't miss the dirty dishes or overflowing garbage or the crowded fridge. I will miss the company, I'm not naturally a solitary person, and I'm started to dread living alone.
Being . . . lonely. I already felt lonely enough in a house of dudes. Sure we say we'll stay in touch, but you know how break ups go.
How will I give Rommel a hard time when the Yankees lose two straight? I have to call. Will I?
Sorry House of Dudes, I just think we should see other people for a while. It's not you it's me.
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I lived in a house of dudes once. You remember? Two of them, actually. I've had enough. Now I just live in a house of dude. One is plenty. I guess it's different if you are a dude.
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