Jin and his Roomy

I live in a small but pretty decent dorm which is five minutes walk from the college. I share the bathroom and shower with my suite-mate, who thankfully I did not have to share the same room with. The past years I had roommates who actually make me engulf myself in colossal misery that I swear I'll never sleep with another person in the same room again. My suite-mate is a decent guy and we actually shared a bottle of Laphroaig on our move-in day. He was from a small town near Naples, thus my reference to him as Frenchie, and I actually thought we could be friends for the rest of the semester. Never did I thought he would add to my utterly abominable woe. I do not take back what I said about him - he is a decent guy, a terrific one indeed. The fact is that Frenchie was a handsome guy, not the kind of handsome to induce homosexuality (I just wanna make clear that I didn't fall in love with him), but the kind of handsome who could bring the self-esteem of a normal-looking guy like me down to the sewers. Every time his picturesque smile soar across the lobby of our dorm, or whenever I hear of a white-teeth freshman girl in his room, my self worth sinks a little - why can't I be like him. This isn't jealousy - jealousy induces a certain kind of negative train of thoughts or actions with it - this is a  simple deep-rooted  admiration and constant reminder of the disappointment our good god have given me. I must be pathetic - letting my well- being be determined by a guy who did me no harm at all. I guess that's what sitting in your room all day makes you - fuss about all those little stuffs. However,  there is the hard-stratified truth that if I have just a dime of his angelic attributes - I would be much happier than I was now. His face gleam of after-shave as he greet "good morning" with enthusiasm for the exciting new day. His triceps flexed with streams of luscious muscles as he revealed his stone-hard abs. His side of the basin was flourished with shine and without a piece a piece of hair to be found, while my side contains every nasty debris you could find in a guy's dorm room. I guess he's the one who's been scrubbing the commode all along- for that I'm grateful. And, I certainly am not romanticizing him at all. I guess maybe I'm just shallow (I try to hide it, at least) - I find myself avoiding any possible encounter with him. I find myself more and more withdrawn; I sometimes even hold my bladder when he is in that bathroom. His content was diminishing mine.