Why I’m Glad I Didn’t Choose My Freshman Roommate
In the summer before my freshman year of college in 1986, I waited for the letter that would bring news of my roommate, anxious to learn who fate had chosen to be possibly my new best friend, or my new worst enemy.
But that’s not what my son Nate did. Last spring, as a second-semester high-school senior, he was unwilling to test his luck. He used social media to identify, track, contact, court and bag an ideal roommate, a kid with proclivities that would fit his own like a fancy leather driving glove. An increasing number of incoming freshmen are curating that once unpredictable initiation into college life. The traditional method of simply spinning the wheel has become less common.
Much is gained as a result. For Nate, it’s meant a clean, harmonious living space—no Metallica poster to shout down his art print. A sensible wake-up time—early but not too early. Nate shares a major with his roommate and a sensibility. They come from the same kind of town in the same part of America. They don’t fight about music or politics.