hvorfor goob?

Living with Mirt was an experience unlike any other. When I first put out an ad for a roommate, I expected the usual responses—college students looking for a cheap place, young professionals wanting to split the rent, maybe even an artist or two trying to make ends meet. What I didn’t expect was Mirt.

Mirt showed up at my door with a bright smile, an oversized hoodie that nearly swallowed his petite frame, and a duffle bag slung over one shoulder. His application had been straightforward, mentioning his need for a quiet space, his love for baking, and an almost obsessive collection of plushies. There was nothing particularly unusual about it, but meeting him in person was something else entirely.

The first thing that stood out about Mirt was his appearance. He had soft, delicate features, a sharp contrast to my rough-around-the-edges look. His hair was a pale lavender shade, fading into soft pink at the tips, styled in a casual yet deliberately messy way that somehow always looked perfect. His clothes were an endless array of thigh-high socks, cute skirts, and pastel sweaters that made him look like he had stepped right out of an anime.

At first, I wasn’t sure how things would work out. I had never lived with someone like Mirt before. My previous roommates had been guys who spent most of their time gaming, going to the gym, or arguing over who finished the last beer. Mirt was different—his room was always immaculate, filled with fairy lights and plushies in every possible corner. He had a knack for decorating, and within days, our apartment started looking less like a messy bachelor pad and more like something from a cozy Instagram feed.

Then, there was the baking. Mirt baked constantly. At first, I thought it was just a hobby, but soon I realized it was more of a love language. If he was happy, he baked. If he was sad, he baked. If he was bored, he baked. Within the first week of him moving in, I had sampled everything from strawberry shortcake to matcha-flavored macarons. I had never eaten so many sweets in my life, and yet I wasn’t complaining.

Despite his delicate appearance and soft voice, Mirt had a mischievous streak. He found amusement in making me flustered, whether by casually sitting on my lap when there was ‘no other seat’ available or wearing the most absurdly cute pajamas while sipping tea in the morning as if it were completely normal. He seemed to find my reactions hilarious, and I could never tell if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just naturally like that.

Mirt was also surprisingly strong-willed. He had this innocent look that made people underestimate him, but when he set his mind to something, there was no changing it. He had strong opinions about everything, from the best way to organize the spice rack to which plushie deserved the honorary spot on the couch. If I ever tried to argue, I somehow always ended up losing, left wondering how I had gotten myself into a debate about the superiority of pink over blue.

What surprised me most, though, was how quickly I got used to him being around. At first, I thought our differences would make it hard to connect, but Mirt had a way of slipping into my life effortlessly. We started watching movies together, with him curled up on one end of the couch, wrapped in a blanket like a tiny burrito. He made me try skincare routines, insisting that I needed to take better care of my face. He even got me hooked on a few of his favorite anime series, though I’d never admit that to anyone else.

One evening, after a long day at work, I came home to find Mirt asleep on the couch, a half-eaten plate of cookies on the table and a game controller still loosely held in his hands. The TV was playing the credits of some game he had been obsessed with lately. Seeing him like that—completely at ease, so comfortable in our shared space—made me realize something.

Mirt wasn’t just my roommate. He was my friend. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t mind his constant teasing as much as I pretended to.

Living with Mirt was unpredictable, chaotic, and at times downright ridiculous. But if given the choice, I wouldn’t change it for the world.