As the youngest child and only girl in my family, I rarely had to share anything — not my toys, not my clothes, and definitely not my room.
That early autonomy shaped my idea of what defined a perfect living situation: I love being able to move through my space however I want without compromise.
Over the years, I prioritized living alone and thankfully escaped college without any roommate horror stories.
When I moved to Mexico City at 30, I continued this independent lifestyle until one day, my best friend here, Adalia, floated the idea of living together.
Amid a rising cost of living, she said, it’d be nice to split bills with someone. Plus, we already spent so much time together — this arrangement could make leaning on each other that much simpler.
Since I work remotely, I also felt isolated at times and could go days without interacting with another human in real life. Spending more time with my friend didn’t sound so bad.
Eventually, I agreed — and, so far, it’s been pretty great.
I was worried about sharing my space, but it’s been surprisingly comforting
Ivana Robinson
I thought having a roommate in my 30s, even one I love dearly, might feel suffocating. I like the freedom of having my own space, and I was worried our differences could be a recipe for disaster.
She’s up at sunrise, but I come alive after dark. We approach tasks in very different ways and are 16 years apart in age.
However, we fell into a groove pretty naturally because we communicate well and often.
Turns out, 34-year-old me knows how to speak up for herself, how to listen, and how not to take things personally way better than I did at 19.
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Beyond splitting expenses, one of the biggest benefits of living together is the simple relief of not having to do everything around the house myself.
From taking out the trash to managing bills to restocking toilet paper, Adalia and I share the household responsibilities. Some weeks it’s an even split, and other times one of us steps up a little more, depending on what life’s throwing our way.
When I caught COVID-19, I tried to pull my weight by doing the dishes. Adalia practically snatched the sponge out of my hand and demanded I rest. I got to return the favor when she was hit with food poisoning a few weeks later.
Having a roommate also means having a built-in emergency-response partner through earthquakes and other disasters. Now, there’s a strange comfort in knowing that if our building starts shaking, I’ve got someone to yell, “Grab the go bag!”
It turns out getting a roommate in your 30s doesn’t have to feel like a step back
Ivana Robinson
What’s been most surprising isn’t that we can live together well — it’s how much I actually enjoy having a roommate.
Some days we’re like ships passing in the night. Others, we spend hours doubled over in laughter on our couch.
We just passed the one-year mark of living together, and I can certainly say that this arrangement has made my life more joyful and sustainable. I’m no longer navigating this city, its earthquakes, or even my to-do list by myself.
I used to think living alone was the pinnacle of freedom, but this kind of shared life has expanded my perspective.
Living alone taught me how to take care of myself, but sharing a home with my best friend taught me how to share the mental load of living and let someone else take care of me, too.
