#thesinglelyfe 2.0

Right. Now if I was having sex with someone in my room and my housemates could hear it, I would hope they wouldn’t make a big deal about it, and maybe even totally ignore it.
So, I’m keeping that in mind while the incredibly thin fucking walls of this house mean I can’t even read my book without a chorus of heavy breathing and creaking bed frames in the background.
It also means I have to contain my laughter when a coughing fit erupts out of nowhere and all I can think is “jesusgod why would you have sex while you’re sick?” when really, that’s probably not the reason she’s coughing.
It’s quarter past ten at night, which is pretty normal for people’s timeline of friskiness. But seriously. This is like. The fourth time I’ve had to consider jumping out my window. And I’d leave and go for a walk around the block or something but it’s fucking cold and I’m warm in my doona to be perfectly honest with you.
So here I am whinging about all the porn noises coming through the walls. Short of stacking every object in my room on top of my head, it appears I’ll just have to deal with it. How loud can my iPhone speakers go!?
Welcome to share housing.

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