T
he evening unfolded smoothly. After our espresso, we debated a spontaneous Boston outing—either a harbor islands cruise or a walk through Arnold Arboretum. The 95‑degree heat made a movie in my air‑conditioned Jamaica Plain flat seem wiser. For the first time on a date, a nervous flutter crept in.
I’m 37 and share a place with two roommates. In the U.S., living with others is often seen as a step to outgrow, a way to split rent and save for a future solo home. I had imagined that path—owning a studio or condo. But the brutal housing market, driven by supply shortages and corporate real‑estate expansion, forced a rethink. In Greater Boston, a single‑family home averages $1 million. So last winter I signed a lease with two friends, Katie and Emma, both in their thirties. It turned out to be one of my best choices.
Choosing a triple‑decker over suburban home ownership was a deliberate move toward community amid career uncertainty and aging parents. Building a shared home felt like a balm against growing isolation and political tension. Conventional wisdom warns that friends aren’t ideal housemates, and there’s truth there. Our first test came with a framed photo of me, featuring Elijah Wood and Sean Astin on the Lord of the Rings set. Katie and I, both Middle Earth fans, wanted it in the hallway to greet guests with Frodo and Sam. “I love it,” Katie said, “but Emma hasn’t seen the movies, so maybe we should pick something we all enjoy.” She was right. Successful co‑living is a series of compromises—deciding what to negotiate and what to set aside for the group. The photo ended up above our bathroom entrance.
A few days later, Emma asked if the sound of her using the sink or toilet early in the day before spin class echoed into my bedroom. “Not in a disruptive way,” I replied. “You can hear it sometimes.” “Sure, but a flushing toilet is something I can tune out.” That exchange affirmed good faith. When you share a space, you must extend grace and be willing to adjust.
Climbing the stairs with my date, I sweated from two worries: how she would react to my living situation and the fact that we’d dropped by without warning Katie and Emma. Yet our months of co‑living had built trust and care. We even dream of buying a place together, a possibility Boston is now helping first‑time buyers achieve. Even that would stretch our finances, but we’ve learned that the real value lies in each other.
After I entered, we all gathered in Katie’s bedroom, where her tuxedo cat Sassy—a shy, fuzzy recluse—curiously approached the new guest. “She’s still getting used to Miles and me,” Emma said, “so you’re kind of a celebrity.” I smiled, realizing Sassy was simply adjusting to roommates. The fear that had gnawed at me evaporated.
Miles Howard is a Boston‑based author, journalist, and founder of Walking City Trails, a network linking over 75 green spaces across 23 neighborhoods. Send comments to [email protected].
