One guy, four girls

Nick Robinson elaborates on the realities of sharing a house with four females

Photo: Bethan McGrath

When the inevitable question, ‘who are you living with this year?’ crops up in general conversation, most people think I’m either mad or Leamington’s Hugh Hefner when I tell them that I, a straight male, am living with four girls. The realities of living within this gender ratio will probably not come as a surprise: a wealth of shoes littering the front entrance, beauty products filling every crevice of space in the bathroom, and the same few Taylor Swift songs blaring out from each corner of the house. All of this I was willing to accept. Not only am I now completely immune to their fits of laughter after sharing one of their many inside jokes but I am the voice of reason when it comes to refereeing the occasional bitch fight.

Whilst I had imagined myself as the commanding man of the house, I’ve found myself in more than one situation which, I imagine, my male peers would rather jump off a cliff than suffer through. The complete disregard of my choice of film has meant in just the past week I’ve sat through both Pretty Woman and Mean Girls, and I’m now well acquainted with the comings and goings of every member of the Kardashians’ family. You could be forgiven for thinking that I also share my house with an abnormally large shaggy dog for the amount of hair that is embedded in the carpets. I have yet to wrap my head around how four girls can shed to such an extent, whilst maintaining their perfectly voluminous mops.

Photo: Bethan McGrath

When it comes to actually going out into town, I often find myself sat in the lounge at the agreed time of 8pm, ready for pre-drinks, only to be left alone with the vodka for a good hour listening to the girls upstairs whine about their outfits and fight over which one of them is allowed to wear the ‘red lip’ that night. On more than one occasion I’ve been faced with the fear-inducing question: “Do I look fat in this?”, and have swiftly learned that no answer should even be attempted in this situation, because whatever I say will be wrong.

I’d like to think of myself as a tolerant guy, but the requests to buy tampons, hair clogging up the shower plug and people always assuming I’m gay is perhaps a stretch too far. That said, I’m given a very privileged view into the female psyche; I now know where not to take a girl on a first date (Nando’s), what I should wear to make the best first impression, and where to get an extra large bar of Galaxy Cookie Crunch from.

Photo: Bethan McGrath

Yes, a lot of my friends are envious of me when they find out my living situation, but I can assure you that my house isn’t full of lingerie- clad girls pillow fighting – I’m usually affronted by a grumpy female in pyjamas with the remains of last night’s makeup on. But I can’t really complain, I get along with them all really well, and have four very well-qualified wing-women to accompany me on nights out. For any males considering a similar living arrangement next year, don’t be too put off – just bring along an extra-strong vacuum and a gas mask to survive all the hairspray.