As with most singletons, I have my moments of feeling mopey about the lack of romance in my life. Especially when both my roommates are sickeningly in love with their man friends. However, every once in a while I receive a dose of "wow, being a relationship would suck". This is once such moment:
Um, excuse me? You mean I would have to share bookshelf space? I mean, I know I'll have to share my bank account, my bed, my car, my kitchen, my future. But my books?
This reminds me of why I am not yet mature enough to promise to share my life with someone. The shared bookshelf is the last frontier, and I don't think I'm ready to cross it. Yeesh.