I live with the two friendliest people on the planet Earth. You might say, "But Maulleigh, I know that Delta flight attendant who drove me from one terminal to another...and then there was that woman...Mother Theresa..."
No, not as friendly. I'm living with two of the nicest, most outgoing women. They make an effort to say good morning to me in the morning, and say goodnight to me before they go to bed. They offer me their food. The roommate who works at Starbucks is allotted one bag of beans a week and is giving me the beans. When I was hot in my room, she set up an elaborate fan system to cool me off. The other just gave me her business card in the kitchen and told me to forward documents to her at work so she could print them out at work for me.
Friendly people make me nervous: mainly, because I'm one of them. I know what and how they think. They give everyone the benefit of the doubt right up front, but anything any little thing and they'll turn on you. There's only one direction from here and it's down. I wonder how I'll fuck up.
Because I will fuck it up. And we'll all go to silent nods, whispers and nasty notes left in the kitchen.