7 things that hit different at 35 when all your friends have real kitchens and you still have roommates

Growing up, I thought adulthood would hit like a light switch.

One day you would just wake up with a mortgage, a cast iron pan that was not inherited from an ex, and a level of emotional stability that matched your credit score.

Turns out it is more like slow cooking short ribs: low heat, long time, lots of unexpected boiling over.

And nothing makes you feel that gap between expectation and reality quite like hitting your mid thirties and realizing most of your friends now have real kitchens.

You know the ones. Appliances that do not rattle. Coffee machines that cost as much as rent in 2012.

Knives that were chosen intentionally instead of donated by someone’s aunt during college move out week.

Meanwhile, you still have roommates. And somehow, you are both fine and not fine at the same time.

Here are seven things that hit different at 35 when that is your life.

1) The fridge becomes a philosophical experience

There is a moment in your early 20s when sharing a fridge feels like a fun social experiment. It is chaotic, but in that we are all in this together kind of way.

At 35? It is anthropology.

You open the fridge and it is like reading the subconscious of the entire apartment. Someone’s half eaten burrito stares back at you.

There is a mysterious Tupperware that no one claims. At least two condiment bottles expired during the Obama administration.

Meanwhile, you have developed this almost reverent appreciation for people whose fridges look like a chef’s mise en place. You go to a friend’s house and their fridge has sections. Sections.

They have sparkling water arranged like they are prepping for a photoshoot. Their produce matches.

Their leftovers live in glass containers instead of mismatched plastic from three different eras of your life.

You start asking yourself questions you never expected. Is this who I am? Am I the person who brings home farmers market asparagus only for it to die in the produce drawer while I order ramen again?

The fridge is not just where food lives anymore. It is a mirror.

2) You develop serious countertop envy

Countertops are a weird thing to envy, but here we are.

Your friends have marble or quartz now. They have kitchen islands.

They have the kind of counter space that invites cooking. Space you can spread out on without knocking over someone’s protein shake or yesterday’s cold brew.

Your counter, meanwhile, is doing its best. It is small, cramped, and holding four different appliances that no single person in the apartment will admit to owning.

Cooking becomes a tactical operation. Cutting an onion requires spatial calculations.

If someone walks in while you are sautéing something, it feels like airplane turbulence. Everyone has to brace and shift around each other.

And still, you cook. You try. Because food is your thing and you refuse to let a lack of counter real estate stop you from making a decent meal.

But yes, you feel things when you visit a friend’s place and they casually place a charcuterie board down with the confidence of someone whose home is not one loose drawer away from chaos.

3) Grocery shopping becomes a personality test

If there is one place where the 35 year old with roommates lifestyle really shows itself, it is the grocery store.

Your friends have Costco memberships. They buy in bulk.

They shop on Saturdays and meal prep for the entire week like disciplined humans who have their lives together.

You, on the other hand, still buy food for one day at a time because fridge space is limited and you are not about to wedge a family size pack of chicken thighs into a shelf already occupied by three roommates’ leftovers.

Grocery shopping becomes nostalgic in a strange way.

Sometimes you catch yourself wandering through the fancy olive oils or overpriced cheeses and wonder what life will feel like when you can finally bring home a full cart of ingredients without planning a battle strategy.

There is a line from a book I once read that said your environment shapes your habits more than your willpower does. Grocery shopping at 35 proves that.

When you eventually have your own kitchen, you know exactly what you will buy first.
And the list is ready.

4) You start measuring relationships by kitchen cleanliness

I used to think compatibility was about shared values, humor, chemistry, all the classic stuff.

But the older you get, the more you realize something very simple. If you want to see someone’s true character, look at how they treat a kitchen.

At 35, a clean kitchen is no longer optional. It is oxygen.

You are too old for passive aggressive roommate notes. You are too busy for arguments about whose turn it is to take out the trash. You are too tired to scrub dried pasta sauce off the stove at 10:30 PM.

Your friends with their own places talk about designing their kitchens to feel peaceful. Meanwhile, you are just trying not to step in something sticky on your way to make coffee.

Cleanliness becomes emotional. Cooking becomes mood dependent. And you realize that when someone respects the shared space, you actually like them more.

Maybe that is adulthood. Realizing the basics are not basic at all.

5) You become hyper aware of noise, schedules, and everything else that never mattered before

At 23, noise was a sign of life.

Music, people coming and going, spontaneous taco nights at midnight. It was fun.

At 35, someone sneezing too loudly at 7 a.m. makes you rethink your entire living situation.

Your tolerance shrinks. Your priorities shift. Your need for quiet grows fast.

You notice everything now.

The roommate who reheats fish at 11 p.m. The one who takes 46 minute showers. The cupboard that always slams no matter how gently you close it. The blender that sounds like a jet engine.

Your friends laugh about this because they do not deal with it anymore.

They have silent dishwashers. They have soundproof windows. They have neighbors they have actually met. And you realize the small stuff is not small.

Peace is one of the most underrated luxuries of adulthood.

6) You appreciate cooking as self care instead of survival

Back in your early 20s, cooking was just a way to avoid spending money. You made whatever was cheapest and filled you up the fastest.

Now it is different. Cooking is grounding. It is a break from a long day. It is a creative outlet. It is a moment of control in a world that feels increasingly chaotic.

And because you have worked in food, you cannot help but crave ingredients that deserve space.

Good spices. Fresh herbs. A real pan that heats evenly.

Your friends with actual kitchens talk about cooking like it is a ritual.

They light a candle, play music, chop vegetables with meditative precision.

You do all of that too.

You just do it with three people walking past you, a sink full of dishes you did not create, and the constant fear that someone will unplug the oven because they needed the outlet.

Still, cooking stays a joy. It simply comes with more obstacles. And maybe that builds character.

7) You learn that lifestyle does not define success

This one took me a while to accept. You start realizing that having roommates at 35 does not say anything meaningful about your worth.

Life is not linear. Careers zig zag. Cities are expensive. People prioritize different things. Some friends invested early. Some inherited money.

Some married partners with high incomes. Some moved back home to save. Some just got lucky.

But success is not measured in square footage or appliance brands.

Some of the smartest and most ambitious people I know lived with roommates well into their 30s. Some of the most miserable people I have met owned beautiful homes they never enjoyed.

Meanwhile, you are building a life on your terms.

One choice at a time. One room at a time. One recipe at a time. And you are doing just fine.

The bottom line

Living with roommates at 35 can feel like a strange in between stage.

You are old enough to crave structure, stability, and a dishwasher that does not sound like it is preparing for liftoff. You are young enough to still be figuring things out and flexible enough to adapt.

What hits different now are the details. The fridge, the counters, the noise, the shared spaces. And those details are teaching you things.

Patience, resilience, boundaries, humor, and the ability to appreciate good things when you finally get them.

If anything, this phase is shaping the version of you who will someday walk into your own kitchen, close the door behind you, and recognize how far you have come.

And honestly, there is something kind of beautiful about that.