People Share Their "I Wish I Never Moved In" Roommate Stories
18. His Serious Anger Issues Necessitated Help From The Police
“Walked into the room for the first time freshman year and saw him standing in the middle of the room screaming at his dad. He was yelling about not wanting to go and how he blamed his mom for writing his college essay and filling out the application. He kept calling my roommate (I shall name him Eduardo) an “ungrateful piece of ***” and threatening to beat the *** out of him if he tried to leave.
It was right after he finished speaking that they realized I was in the room. They both pretended nothing had happened, shook my hand, and introduced themselves. Luckily, my parents had not walked in with me, so they didn’t have to see that and be worried. Eventually, my parents met his as they helped me set up the room and talked about how proud of us they were.
Eduardo’s dad kept saying things like, “It’s either college or the street ’cause I’m not paying to support a failure.” My parents of course thought he was joking.
Every day, this kid told me how much he hated school. He would never go to class, drink in the room all day with the door open (we were a dry campus), scream at everyone, party all night, and generally just be a ***.
He used to watch VH1 every night until 4 AM with the volume cranked up so loud, you couldn’t hear. When I asked him to turn it down because I couldn’t hear, he said he would if I wrestled him. Turns out, he was serious. He wanted to WRESTLE me because of me asking him to turn down that Bret Michaels Rock of Love show. I declined and went to bed.
The next day, he called his mom to come to get him, and she agreed and said she was getting in the car. She never came. He LOST HIS ***. He broke everything he owned. Punched a hole through his tv, slammed his guitar hero controllers on the ground repeatedly, threw his Xbox out the window, cracked his cell phone in half, ripped his bedsheets. He basically totaled his side of the room.
I left the room during all this, assuming he was just blowing off steam and not knowing he was breaking his ***.
I walked back into a ****** warzone with him standing in the middle of the room crying, drinking laundry detergent, and yelling about how he wanted to die and how he took a whole bottle of Advil after he broke his stuff. I ran to get the RA, and he ran and took the broken glass/plastic shards from his computer monitor and started cutting his wrists.
The RA and I reentered the room to this kid throwing up detergent and bleeding. Cops were called. They fed him charcoal to prevent him from dying due to detergent/pills. (Apparently, they do this instead of ipecac syrup.) He left that night. Woke me up to say goodbye. Last thing he said to me?
“Goodbye Jayquack, sorry about ruining your birthday.”
I swear to God this story is 100% true and so is the part where he tried to bring in a gun to kill me later, but that’s a different story.”
Another User Comments:
“Now you have to tell us the rest of the story…” ketchupsic
Reply:
“After he left, I needed a new roommate. The guys across the hall were tripled in a room made for 2, so I invited one of them to live with me. He accepted, the RD agreed, and less than 2 weeks later, he was all moved in. This new guy is great; we really hit it off and become fast friends, and he begins to tell me how Eduardo still texts him.
Apparently, he still texted everyone in the rooms near mine. Now I really don’t care because who am I to say who they should and shouldn’t text as long as it doesn’t involve me?
My new roommate (who I shall name Bill) is a pretty sociable person and has long since made friends with all the neighbors. I always wanted to make friends with the people around us, but having Eduardo as a roommate made it incredibly difficult to.
His train of thought was that if they were HIS friends, they could not under ANY circumstances be MY friends as well. Honestly, looking back on it, I guess I was a bit like an abused partner. I’d gotten so used to him being a *** that I just quietly sat in my room playing video games, afraid to be sociable for fear of awakening the beast.
ANYWAY… Bill introduced me to the neighbors, and we all became good friends, and it was once this friendship blossomed that they began to admit to me that not only was Eduardo still texting them, he was becoming more and more angry towards me. He would text them how things would be better if I had left and not him and how he’d made some mistakes and wished he could come back.
It was at this point that he texted Bill and told him, “Hey man, I’m gonna come visit for the weekend. I’m taking my old bed while I’m there.” It was at this point that I actually nutted up and decided enough was enough. I called him (still had his number saved in my phone for God knows what reason) and flat out told him he was unwelcome in the room.
I said he was welcome to come get his stuff that he had left that had survived his “episode” (his minifridge was all that remained), but there was NO WAY I was letting him stay in the room for longer than it took to take his fridge because of the fact that he was a downright horrible person. He ****** flipped out.
He started screaming into the phone how I was the “greasiest piece of *** slimeball” that he’d ever called a friend.
I said, “Sorry, goodbye” and hung up. He tried calling back, texting, and IM’ing me, but I ignored or blocked it all. It was at this point that he started commenting on everything I’ve ever done on Facebook ever. I mean ever. All with the same word: “f*ggot.” Hundreds of notifications. Finally, he stopped, and I thought it was over. Then suddenly Bill gets a text that says, “Dude, *** Jayquack.
He won’t say no after this.”
Bill asks him what that means, and Eduardo responds with, “Got my dad’s gun case keys. See you in an hour.” I’ve never run anywhere faster than I have to the police station that day. I explained the situation, and they called a cop from his area to speak with him and his parents. They assured me nothing was going to happen and that he probably was just p*ssed and needed to blow off steam.
Turns out, the cops got to his house as he was getting in the car. He had his dad’s shotgun under the passenger seat.
I called my family, they drove out, and we had a meeting with the police. Eduardo’s mother drove out to school too and met with us. She pleaded that her son needed help and that if I had him arrested, he could never change.
My parents kept urging me to press charges, but the look in Eduardo’s mom’s eyes was so sad that I told her I wouldn’t if he got help.
And once again, everything was fine, for about a week.
Halloween night rolls around, and due to my job on campus, I can’t go out partying. My job consists of sitting at a desk and checking ID cards between 11 pm and 4 am to make sure everyone who enters actually lives in the building.
Well, I was informed that joining me and my work partner would be 2 troopers. They told me it was because the drunken shenanigans on Halloween tend to get rowdier than two minimum wage student workers can handle. I thought that was pretty bada** and spent the whole night checking the ID cards of kids dressed up in costumes, trashed out of their skulls.
Around 3 AM, one officer pulls me aside and says he has to tell me something.
The real reason they were there that night was that Eduardo was seen in the area, and they needed to make sure I was safe while they found him. Apparently, kids are harder to identify when they’re all in costume (who knew?). The officer told me they found him on campus around 2 AM, hiding in the service entrance to my dorm building.
He was carrying a knife.
This time, I was not so lenient and pressed charges. Among other things, he is now not allowed within 2 miles of campus, which essentially makes him unable to be in the town the school is located in.
It’s been about 4 years now, and I STILL remember every detail vividly.
Once again, 100% true. Who could make *** this scary up?” Jayquack
17. He Was Cool Until His Girl Dumped Him
“My roommate freshman year was really cool, for the first semester.
We liked video games, most of the same music, got along well, etc. We were also both majoring in the same subject, so that was cool. So, the first semester went by very smoothly.
Enter the second semester. We get back from the holidays, and he goes back home on the first weekend after break. He comes back Saturday afternoon and seemed generally upset, so I asked him what was wrong.
Well, he never told me the full story, but his girl broke up with him. After that, it all went to ****** ***.
He would play call of duty and SCREAM at the television (on my Xbox/tv/internet. We only had 2 ethernet ports and no wireless, so I would let him use mine for Xbox live if I wasn’t there and let him finish a couple of games after I got back before making him return my internet).
I mean, he would ****** yell at this game like it just r*ped his grandmother in front of him.
He would get food, most notably sushi with very generous amounts of soy sauce, leave his trash on MY desk, on MY ****** COMPUTER, getting soy sauce all over it. Luckily, it was only on the outside, but I was still p*ssed. Very p*ssed. He left all sorts of other trash on my desk and on my bed, which I made him clean up.
He seemed oblivious to it. “Dude, clean your ****** trash off my ***. Seriously, this has got to stop.” “Oh, my bad. I didn’t notice.”
He would wake up at 3 in the morning and start watching World of Warcraft videos on YouTube at full blast and seemingly didn’t notice that I was in the room (again, “Oh, sorry dude. My bad”). If he wasn’t in bed by 9 o’clock, he would come home at 1-2 in the morning, turn the light on, and get on the phone (once again, he says, “Oh sorry, my bad.”).
In addition to leaving his trash everywhere, he just threw all of his *** like clothes, books, papers, gadgets, etc. under his bed, which eventually spread out into such a massive pile that I couldn’t open our dorm room door.
When he went to bed at 9:00 pm, and I wasn’t even remotely tired, I would turn my computer brightness all the way down and plug in headphones, so he could sleep, but he’d just wake up and tell me to shut it the *** off, to which I replied, “Look, it’s only like 9:30.
You live with another person. I try to be as considerate as I can, but seriously, a little bit of computer glow isn’t going to kill you. Wear those eye-cover things you bought 3 weeks ago.”
“Oh, I forgot I had those.” Needless to say, it ****** sucked.”
16. An Emotional Trainwreck
“Ohhhh, the joy of freshman roommates.
We shall call her Sally. I met Sally on a class of 2014 Facebook site, and we messaged back and forth, and she seemed cool.
We agreed to be roommates; I didn’t really know her, or anyone else for that matter, but I just wanted to make sure they were normal, and she seemed normal.
Cue to a few weeks before school started. ALL SUMMER, she posted on my wall, blew my phone up, just “herpdy-derp, soooo excited for school!!!!1!!1” It was obvious that she had decided that we were to be best friends.
Okay. I can handle that.
Now is time for her description: short, maybe 5’1/5’2, curvy, crazy curly black hair, and a Cleveland accent. It was move-in day. I had arrived before her, and when she walked through the door, I approached her, saying something, like, “Yay, we’ve finally met!” and going in for a hug, I don’t know. Instead, she looks at my fingernail polish (burgundy) and my toenail polish (pink), and she said, “Ew.
Your fingernail and toenail polish doesn’t match. I don’t like that.”
THE ***?
That entire first week, she dominated every d*mn conversation had with anyone in the dorm, telling them how she modeled for a hair magazine (which she brought to school, by the way, displayed on her desk), how she’s Jewish, how she’s allergic to apples, how she neverrr works out but has the PERFECT body, and every boring, uninteresting fact about her.
Within the first two days, she spied a boy down the hall and WAS UP HIS A**. Dear lord. They started going steady. She ONLY hung out with him, for HOURS every day, just sitting on her bed, or his bed, or I don’t know, just together. And I was friends with him and his roomie, so it was chill, until one night, he stayed over in her room (which is down the hall… really?), and they decide to *** while I was there.
Our beds were set up, so that they touched. MY BED WAS MOVING. I promptly got up at 3:30 AM and crashed on one of my other friend’s futons.
Sally absolutely dropped everyone else who she had tried to force a friendship on (which I was cool with) but then would get emotional when she was excluded. She was a little, fun sucker with everything we did.
She didn’t drink, which is totally cool; I respect that, but she would join the people on the floor who went out plastered and become distant and **** with everyone, especially her man, with whom she fell “in love” with within the first few weeks of seeing each other.
Oh, and she cried. Constantly. About her man, about ME, about anything at all. She cried about 3 times a week, at least. Her man and she began to fight: SCREAMING, crying, angry fights all IN MY ROOM.
Now, I’m very involved at my school; I also studied a lot at the library, had a job, and had a lot of friends in the same dorm, so I rarely was in my room at all, but it realllly gets annoying when at least 2 times a week for a few hours at a time having to avoid the room. But, I understood, couples fight, and they’re in a dorm, so where else are they supposed to do that?
Throughout the entire year, I don’t think she studied at all (communications major, gah). The TV that she brought was. Never. Off. She watched TV constantly. As soon as she woke up, the TV was on. If I returned after she had fallen asleep, the TV was still on. All day, every day. And it wasn’t even good channels; it was a very diverse mixture of ET, MTV, or BRAVO, and if she had already seen the episode, she WOULD STILL WATCH IT AGAIN.
It honestly was appalling seeing that much blatant inactivity.
I mean, sometimes she would go outside the dorm. She had a job that she worked about 10-15 hours a week, an understandable amount as a college student; you don’t want to become overwhelmed. But then she QUIT because she didn’t like working on Sundays because that was the day her man got brunch with HIS friends, and she didn’t want to miss out on spending time with him.
WHAT.
This summer, they-as you probably guessed-broke up. She went into the crazy depressive mode and BLEW EVERYONE’S PHONES UP. She apologized to me about how she should have known that boys would leave before friends (like, no *** – everyone knows that.) She is now up everyone’s a**es trying to repair the friendships that she actually never cultivated. so there’s nothing there to repair.
Our circle of friends (and by our friends, I mean her ex-man’s and my friends), absolutely despise her, and I just sit back and chuckle to myself. I’m excited for this year to start.”
15. Just Your Average Unstable Drug Dealer
“My freshman year roommate started out seeming pretty cool. He definitely was considered a “stoner,” even by the standards of my college, which is in the middle of the ‘special green plant’ capital of the world. But whatever; that was cool.
He didn’t smoke in the room and wasn’t too stinky or disrespectful or anything. At least at first.
4-5 weeks into the school year, we started having people knocking on the window/door for our room at all times of the day and night, looking to score some ‘green’ from my roommate. Seriously, there was one week I got woken up at 3 am on 4 different nights because somebody ran out of bud.
I talk to my roommate about it, and he gets people to stop coming over at night but is still dealing out of our room. Whatever; it doesn’t smell, all the pot is on his side of the room, and he’s agreed to take all of the blame if he gets busted. I’m a tolerant, easy-going guy, so I can live with this.
About halfway through the year, my roommate goes off the deep end.
He becomes 95% non-functional when he’s not high. He comes in rolling on hard ***** pretty much every night of the week. He wakes up in the morning and starts coughing so loud in the bathroom that he wakes up all the other people in our dorm.
Not once, but TWICE, he clogged up one of the toilets in the bathroom, and rather than fixing it, he just starts screaming and cussing out the toilet, then grabs his backpack and leaves without telling anybody what happened. The toilet then overflows and floods the bathroom with ********, which soaks into the carpet just outside the bathroom, right in front of our room.
He comes back at night and starts screaming about how there’s ******** in the carpet right outside of our room.
My roommate comes in late one night after partying pretty hard, and he’s as high as you can get and still walk. He goes into our room and crashes out. In the morning we wake up at GODD*MN 6 AM to him screaming and pounding on the doors of everybody in our hallway, claiming that we stole his backpack last night.
He’s totally convinced that he had his backpack with him when he came back and is ready to start kicking through doors to prove that it’s in somebody’s room. Eventually, he just breaks down crying and goes to class without his backpack.
Later that same day, we see him with his backpack, so we ask him where it was. His response, “Oh, I got high at my buddy’s place last night, and I left it there – not like it’s that important.” No apology for waking everybody up, no acknowledgment of anything from the morning, nothing.
He eventually got busted in the dorms in possession of mushrooms, h*sh, p*t, and alcohol. Needless to say, he got kicked out, much to everybody’s relief.”
14. Going To School? More Like Constantly Partying All The Time
That sounds like… a waste of what could have been a great academic career and a bright future.
“I was nervous about my first roommate, so I actually called him up to discuss who was bringing what, like a good little nerdy freshman.
I’d bring the TV, he’d bring his Xbox, etc. I figured it would be best to try to be friends since we’d be living together. Well, I call his number that the university provided, and his mom answers. I ask for him. After an awkwardly long pause, he picks up and mumbles incoherently to all of my questions. Already, I know something is wrong.
As it turns out, Steve is a townie.
Yes, he lives in town and is going to this university in his hometown where he was required to live in the dorms. I did not have the wisdom to realize what bad fortune had befallen me.
The first day of school, I get moved in, and there’s no sign of my roommate. At this point, I don’t even know what he looks like. He’s left his stuff in the room but hasn’t really made any effort to organize it or make any space for me.
I have to move his TV (which I told him I was bringing…) to make room for my chair. Whatever, I say. I go out, socialize a bit, come home later that afternoon, and hit the hay early because I’m exhausted.
I wake up at some ungodly hour to the worst smell I have ever smelt in my 18 short years. Steve has returned covered in a combination of vomit, liquor, and smoke.
It is the worst mixture of odors I have ever encountered, and to this day I can remember laying awake until sunrise, praying for sleep to come, silently cursing the drunk, fat, vomit-covered ***** in the bunk beside me.
The next few weeks, I “get to know” Steve a bit better. He is in engineering school because his brother went there and is now a successful engineer.
Steve doesn’t want to be here. At all. Steve wants to get drunk every ***ht and vomit on every available surface with his townie friends. It just so happens he now has a better place to crash when his friends drop him off after a crazy night.
One day, one of his friends came into the room, smoking (in the dorms, this was highly illegal) while talking about the room.
He was your typical white-trash townie, talking in ghetto-slang and trying to sound like a bada**. In particular, he was impressed by the fact that we had two TVs. “Y’all mothaf*ckas livin’ like mothaf*ckin’ KINGS!”
So the nights of vomit and smokes continued unabated. I was happy when the semester got into full swing, as I had an excuse to go study in the library or at a classmate’s room.
Anything to avoid the smell. I bought a cheap air filtration machine to keep it at bay, but it was impossible to purge the room completely.
Partway through the semester, I started to realize that my roommate couldn’t possibly be going to his classes. He would sleep in the room for hours, all afternoon, then wake up to go out and do more partying with his townie buddies.
By this point I had basically no respect for him, so I went through his mail, found some personal information with his student ID and account data, connected to the university’s class registration system, and checked his record. He was failing all his classes. The drop date was mid-October, just a few weeks away, so I knew I had until then and then Steve would be out of my life for good.
The date came: he dropped and moved out. I was ecstatic. No roommate for the rest of the semester.
The next semester, he was re-enrolled and living in a room directly across the hall from me. Oh well, he’s somebody else’s problem now, I thought. Turns out, he dropped out of his second attempt at college, too.”
13. Always Causing Problems But Never Going Away
“I lived in a co-op with 20 other roommates for 4 years so I shared my home with quite a few interesting people.
The one that takes the cake is a guy named Kyle. Kyle was 20 when he moved into our house and already had quite a head start on his minor in alcoholism.
We were lucky enough to witness Kyle’s 21st birthday. He had gone out the night before to start drinking at midnight. He’d gone out with over $200 but woke up in our front yard (where his friends left him) with an empty wallet.
I was getting ready to take a shower when I heard a knocking on the front door. I was walking towards it when I heard Kyle start to yell for someone to let him in. I decided I wanted no part of this and made my way to the shower. After I had toweled off and dressed I listened at the door but heard no sign of him.
I exited the bathroom and entered my own only to find Kyle sitting on my couch chugging down a previously unopened bottle of whiskey I had been gifted by a friend.
Of course, the first words out of my mouth were, ‘What the **** are you doing?’
‘It’s cool, it’s cool,’ he said. ‘Your girl said it was fine.’
‘No, she didn’t,’ I stated, matter-of-factly.
‘You’re right, you’re right.’ He replied, ‘but it’s all cool, right?’ He proceeded to throw a handful of $1 bills at me while saying this and walked out of the room.
I went about readying myself for the day, locked my room, and headed to the front door. On my way through the living room, I found Kyle practicing his golf swing (about three weeks later we found a hole in the front window that was coincidentally the size of a golf ball).
I left to run some errands, returned home, and gathered some things to go out with my friends. As I was pushing open the back door it stopped with a thud, hitting Kyle in the back. Apparently, his mother had bought him an 18 pack of beer and he had been sitting on the back stoop drinking it since he had lost his keys.
“Oh man, Sephus!
I’m so glad you came out here. I have to get ready to be at work in half an hour!” He ran inside and I went along my way. My roommates told me his mother returned soon after to give him a ride to work (for better or worse, at least this kept him from driving).
The story gets fuzzy from here as it’s all second hand.
Kyle was a fry cook at a restaurant and during his shift, he was fired for climbing through the kitchen window to grab drinks off of server’s trays.
No one really knows what happened between then and when he returned home. What is known is that when he returned home he still did not have his keys as the following morning we found the basement door kicked in from the outside.
Upon seeing this, a number of us went to Kyle’s room to find his door had been kicked in and he was still asleep in his bed. Though he vehemently denied damaging either door he eventually paid for the repairs to both.
The following month was a series of meetings, interventions, second chances and, finally, a fistfight with one of our female roommates, all culminating in a vote kicking Kyle out of the house.
As was tradition, we followed up the weekly house meeting by going to the local bar with a half-off night and drank our fill. Upon returning we found Kyle grilling 6 half chickens in the backyard while nearly falling down drunk. He told us all he understood our decision and everything was cool. He offered everyone beer and chicken and we all hung out for a bit before going to bed.
The following morning my girl and I woke up. I opened the door to head back down to my room and saw two cops carrying Kyle down the hall and out of our house. After we had all went to bed, Kyle had stayed up, carved a checkerboard into one of our roommates’ cars and his name into another after slashing her tires. He was being arrested as he had an open warrant.
He had a MIP conviction and had never reported for probation. His family came and took all of his belongings and he never returned.”
12. Stealing From Us Will Be The Worst Mistake You Make
“This story goes back to the early 2000s when cellphones were slowly getting smaller with flip phones, but the Nokia phone still reigned supreme.
I was in a large college where the student population made up 2/3rds of the actual town it resided in.
I had moved into a place off-campus after finding out over the summer that the place I originally had was utterly screwed over, and I had to scramble to find a new place. My buddy Dave suggested that I move into the apartment complex he’s been living in, and since he worked also to cut down on his rent, he’d put in a good word for me.
I thanked him profusely and knew that we’d have good times.
The guy I was moving in with was a big pothead from NJ. I’ll call him PH for short. PH is from a wealthy family in NJ with some seeming connections to the mafia. PH and I had originally been slotted to be roommates in the first place, but because PH had done some shady ***, we lost the house and were forced to scramble.
Being the nice person I am, I gave PH the contract for him to sign separately so that our rooms, while technically connected, I was no longer on the same lease as him. Strike 1 for PH for screwing me over on housing and making me panic, but I knew something shady was up, so I kept the contracts separated.
Come August, we both move in with my buddy Dave helping me out as he had stored my stuff at his parents’ house.
Dave was a Godsend and to this day is still a good buddy of mine. Most of the furniture in the place was cheap but owned by the complex, which was great since I didn’t have any as I moved from the dorms the previous year.
The room had a bathroom connected to it and then another door that connected to a common room/kitchen area.
PH would often sit in that room watching TV and smoking green stuff.
I’m mostly an introvert, so I would often be in my room studying or playing video games. I had also bought myself a TV card, so I could watch TV on my computer; this comes in later. What amazed me was that PH never seemed to go to classes, and I later found out why: he had been put on academic probation for failing classes his sophomore year and was taking classes at the local JC to make up the credits and boost his grades.
Over time, I had also suspected that PH was going into my room without permission.
Because of fire codes, the doors connecting to the common room weren’t allowed to have actual locks, just the sh*tty bathroom door locks that can be unlocked with a wire. How did I know he was in there? The smell of “green” seemed to follow him, and the stink seemed to be in my room when I would get back from class.
I would also find random glasses or plates in my room as well as evidence of food. PH would up and deny it, until one day, class let out early, and I found him sitting in my room watching TV on my computer. I flipped out and asked what the *** he thinks he’s doing. His TV busted a few weeks ago and had been using my computer to watch TV.
I told him he wasn’t allowed to go into my room when I wasn’t here. He agreed, and that was the end of it.
On another day, I came home early again from class and saw a delivery guy at his door. This was weird as I knew PH was constantly strapped for cash as he would usually spend the money his dad gave him on “green” every month.
It was one of the places I usually ordered from, and it looked suspicious when I saw that PH signed a little slip of yellow paper showing that he paid with a credit card. PH didn’t have a credit card as he didn’t believe in them, nor did he have them since his dad usually gave him cash.
At the time, my parents had given me a dining card which was basically a pre-loaded debit card that you could use at local restaurants.
The fact that my account had suddenly started running low and that him signing the yellow slip tipped me off to something odd going on. A quick check into my account, and yep, I found that he had been using my card for food on days that I was in class.
I confronted PH about it and told him I’d go to the cops if he didn’t pay me back for the food he bought off of my card.
He gave me $75 in cash and then handed me his paintball gun set. I cooled down, but I knew that he had to go.
He was eating my food, using my meal card, on my computer, and just generally being a *** to me.
The Revenge: I was really into computers at the time and Dave and I both were into gaming. I told Dave all about what was going on after a night of drinking and we started devising a plan to take down PH.
We decided to work in phases. The first was to lock him out of things I didn’t want him using anymore.
Since I couldn’t lock PH out of my room, I could sure as *** lock him out of my computer, so I secretly set up a bios password that I only knew. This would ensure that PH would not be able to bypass my OS, and the only thing he could do was turn the computer on and off.
I also started storing my food in Dave’s room for the time being and let Dave have free reign on it since he was helping me out so much.
Dave had access to all kinds of things as he was one of the maintenance people on site. He knew how to hack, and his boss taught him how to pick locks, even as far as giving him a lock-picking set and old locks to practice on.
Dave was able to get into the main office and find out if PH had been current on his payments, which he hadn’t, then also found out that PH owed a crap ton of money to the university, but they had no way of knowing where he is as he didn’t give them his current address.
Dave then lock-picked into PH’s room and found his “green” stash, took pictures of it, then quietly went on his way, locking the place back up as if nothing was out of place.
With that all squared away, and the mounting evidence we had on PH regarding use of illegal substances, credit card fraud, skirting debt and failing to pay for his room on time, Dave and I come to the front office and present all of the information + pictures (would be hearsay but could be used by police for probable cause since his room constantly smelled of “green”) to the head of housing.
Since this was a corporately owned apartment complex, legal was brought in, and we had a nice long conversation about PH.
PH was fined heavily by the complex and was evicted from the premises. Since he hadn’t paid his rent in over a month plus complaints, they filed the eviction notice and had the local police deliver it. Surprise, surprise to find that the room smelled of “green”, and after a carefully placed tip to them, they found his stash.
Unfortunately, he was able to place bail, but still, having that on him made it so he would have a criminal record.
Because he went to jail, in the state we were in, the police allowed the apartment complex to go into his room and take what they could to gain back what rent he hadn’t paid. They were going to seize it anyways as they were allowed to as part of the federal asset seizure program, but the stuff wasn’t worth their time.
We also called the university and told them where his dad lives (since he had told me one night and gave me the full address as part of the rental agreement before) and had them use their credit agencies to go after him.
I wasn’t surprised to no longer see PH after that, but he did call me up one day and asked if I could hold onto his mail.
He promised me he’d be back in town in three months with the promise that if he wasn’t there, I could take whatever was leftover and could toss out his mail. Knowing that PH was a flake, I knew that he would never be back, so I kept his stuff regardless and sold what I could and trashed the rest.
As part of the mail, I did find an open letter that showed how much he owed the school.
I doubt he’ll ever make that money back, but since his dad is connected, maybe he will.
Anyways, Dave and I never saw PH ever again and I had a new roommate come February. I guess PH moved back to NJ in with his parents but he basically cut all contact with everyone that he knew in the town.
Dave and I still joke about it to this day.”
11. The Problem Wasn't What They Did But What They Didn't Do
“As the year lease is almost but over, I have taken time to realize that living with your best friends may not be at all what you thought it out to be.
In the months leading up to getting the house with my 2 best friends, everything seemed to be going nicely. The 3 of us talked about how good it’d finally be to have a place of our own, how things will be much better now that we live together, and how we’re now away from the tyrannical rule of our parents.
It all played out so well in my head.
Fast forward to a month in the house, and I realize my 2 best friends are lazier than I thought.
I’ll call them Dan and Aaron. Both Dan and Aaron seem to have something against flushing the toilet. (Disgusting, right?) Every morning, I’d walk into the bathroom to see a big number 2 floating in the toilet bowl.
At first, I didn’t let it get to me; I thought that maybe they were in a hurry, and they’d just forget to flush before they left.
2 months in, and it was still happening, but that wasn’t the only issue that was bothering me at this point.
In the 2 months that we had been here, neither of the two had even washed a dish, took out the trash, or bought any groceries.
It really started to irk me because, mind you, these were my best friends, and never would I have thought they would have been this way. Before we moved in, they spoke about wanting a clean and nice house, but I guess it was only a lie.
After 3 months, the same things were happening, so I eventually started to become upset and began hinting at how tired I’ve been having to work 10 hour days and come home and have to be the only one to do household work, to which I was met with the reply of, “Man, that sucks.” Man, that sucks?
I was enraged! I was trying to vent thinking maybe they’d think, “Oh man, he’s having to do everything.
Maybe we should help,” but I guess I was gravely mistaken.
4 months in, and I was fed up. At this point, I was still doing everything I mentioned above and also mowing the yard, **rnishing the house, buying all the laundry soap, and purchasing shower and bathroom products.
I tried asking them numerous times to help or to clean up after themselves, and it was the same reply over and over, “Bro, I’ll get to it eventually,” but they’d never “get to it.”
There was a point in time where I didn’t do anything in the house for 2 weeks, and boy, did everything go to ****.
The toilet was nearly full with ***, the dishes were stacked on the counter because the sink was full, the pantry and the fridge were empty, the trash was overflowing to the point where everything was falling onto the floor, and the house was becoming increasingly more messy day by day.
I eventually caved and had to spend a whole day cleaning everything. These were supposed to be my best friends, but they obviously had no respect for me or the house itself.
5 months in, and I had gotten to the point where I became a ****** and a complainer, but it was all for good reason. I had to constantly remind them to flush the toilet, take out the trash when it was their turn, mow the yard when it was their turn, and attempt to have them buy groceries when we had none.
Both of them would get home from work and go straight to their rooms onto their computers where they would sit up till 7 am playing games and constantly eating food and dirtying up dishes that they would never clean.
We’d make trips to Walmart where I’m spending up to 300 dollars on groceries to their measly 20 bucks each buying a TV dinner and claiming that was doing their part.
They’d eat up all the food I’d bought while I wasn’t home, and they’d never replace it. I honestly started to resent my best friends at this point.
They’d make me out to be the ***** because I wanted help. I’d do everything in the house but get called a ****** when I asked for help.
They would constantly throw how much more money they’d have than me in my face.
“Bro, my bank account is sitting at $5k right now. You only have $2k? Lol.” I’d tell them it was because I’m literally the only one who takes the house seriously and that I’m the one buying everything; therefore, I’m going broke because of it.
“Nah bro, you just don’t know how to save.”
7 months in, and it was so bad, they were literally using the excuse, “You know I’m lazy, so why even ask?” I *** you not, both of them would literally say that.
I’d ask them to wash their dishes once every 2 weeks, and they would literally say that. To keep things civil at the house, I couldn’t even mention anything about the house, or they would get p*ssed and try to gang up on me saying I worried and complained too much. They were completely taking advantage of me, and I was fully aware of it.
Just so I didn’t live in filth, I’d have to hunker down and do everything.
I hate living with tension, so I just stopped asking them to do anything because it always ended up with one of them trying to fight me over it (NO LIE).
It may sound like I’m a pushover, but while all this was going on, I was dealing with extreme depression caused by 5 family member deaths within a 6-month span.
Normally I would not stand for such disrespect, but losing that many family members in such a short time really f*cked me up to the point where I lost all care of anything other than my house itself. I already had enough stress from doing everything, and then my family dying made it worse.
The last thing my mental health needed was fighting my roommates and living in a constant anxious state of if a fight was going to happen or not.
You’d think them being my best friends while all my family members were dying, they would have stood up and helped me, but they did not. I guess some people just really don’t care, and that’s Dan and Aaron.
10 months in, and I couldn’t even look at them without getting p*ssed off. Everything they did or said set me off.
I was still doing everything without help.
I’d work 6 to 7 days a week, 10 hours a day, going to the gym after work, and I’d still have to come home and deal with their *** and clean the house as well, as usual. My 2 “best friends” would work, come home, and jump on their computers and guzzle down fast food and scream at the game they were playing till 7 or 8 am every day.
A few weeks ago, I finally was fed up.
I came home from work one night to find Aaron sitting in my chair playing my Playstation. The living room was my domain basically because they never left their rooms. My only happiness was coming home, sitting in my chair, and watching a movie until I was tired and then retreating to my room shortly after, and Aaron knew this. I was extremely tired from a hard day at work and the gym, and I calmly asked him to get up, so I could enjoy my night before heading to bed like I do every night, but he said no around 4 times, despite me asking in a friendly manner.
All that pent up rage inside me just started to boil, and nothing at this point could stop it from exploding out.
I walked over to my chair and used all the power I had to flip him over. He jumped up and grappled me, knocking over a table in the process. I overpowered him and got him in a headlock and squeezed so hard my arms went numb until Dan came in and broke it up.
Aaron stood up and started yelling and so did I.
I went off on a 20-minute rant that I guess hit home so hard for the both of them that they couldn’t even muster up a single rational reply because they knew they were in the wrong this whole time.
After that, they went to their rooms and followed their usual nightly gaming routine, but they were quiet.
I informed them the next morning before work that this last month, I’m not doing anything for the house, don’t even look at me, or talk to me, and if they want the safety deposit back, they better get their a**es in gear and start cleaning.
They didn’t say a word. Ever since then, they have been cleaning and buying groceries and also trying to joke around and talk to me like normal. I play the part and act like nothing happened, and everything is normal, but in reality, I’m counting down that 15 days until the lease is up, and after that, my own place, here I come.
I guess what they say about not knowing someone until you actually live with them is true.
I do believe I lost my 2 so-called best friends after that whole ordeal, but it allowed me to step back and actually view the friendship I had with the 2 of them in a different light, and I don’t think I can force myself to be friends with them after this.
They say some friendships are ruined when you move in with your friends, and unfortunately, that’s what happened to me. Hopefully to anyone who is reading this doesn’t have to go through the **** that I had to endure. Really stoked about getting my own place now, haha.”
Another User Comments:
“This hurt my heart to read! I went through this with who I thought was my “best friend” last September (when I moved out).
Turned out, she made me into a personal maid, and I was angry/resentful 100% of the time. I learned these kinds of people are ****** users, and it was a good thing to know the truth sooner than later. I’m sorry you lost so many people, and these parasites weren’t helpful in any way to you. Good luck in the futurem sir!” Strangedazefly
10. I Just Want To Punch Her In Her Self-Centered Face
“I knew Val and I might have some issues the day after I started talking to her online. She made a joke about me fixing her computer when she found out I was a CS major, and she seemed incapable of writing a full sentence.
Her e-mails were in text speak and hard to follow.
We moved in, and it was clear she had overpacked. Her mom also decorated our room and put away my roommate’s stuff. Val had so many shoes, she had to take half of my closet space. She never asked, and by the time it became a problem, I was unable to do much about it.
Val and I were very different people. She was conservative, and I don’t think ever read in her life. I was socialist, loved reading the news, and a huge bookworm. I’m not really sure how Val even got into college because she seemed like a sh*tty student. She hated school and complained about it all the **c***g time. Val hated feminists because they f*cked up the world, so she has to go to school.
Val felt that women should never be forced to work, and that was a man’s job. She was very clear that she thought women should just cook and clean. Please remember this.
It only took a month at most before Val and I stopped talking. I tried to at least stay friendly to her but just gave up. There are only so many times you can say hi to someone and have them not respond until you just stop caring.
I was also the only person on the floor who Val didn’t talk to. That was kind of sh*tty.
Val loved to stay up late and talk to her man. I had 8 AM classes, and she knew this. If her late had been midnight, I would have been fine with that, but her late was 2 to 4 AM every **c***g night. Also, her talking wasn’t in a conversational tone.
It was often shouting, screaming, general whiny noises, slamming books shut, microwave use, and banging on her desk. She also didn’t use headphones, ever. I don’t even think she owned a pair. Her man would whistle loudly to see if I woke up.
Val cleaned the dorm very rarely. If it had just been her side that was messy, I would not have cared, but she had so much ****.
The only space I had in the room was my desk and lofted bed. There were weeks I couldn’t sit on the futon because there was too much stuff on it. I was the only one who ever cleaned the bathroom too. I stopped cleaning it during the last semester, and I often heard her **t*h about how dirty it was. She cleaned it once instead of studying for her exams. End of the year, she left me a little note that said I needed to clean the room because her dad took down my loft.
Val liked to have people over. I would have been fine with that if I had gotten heads up. I never did. I had 30 people stay the night over the course of the year. Once, there were 4 guests who stayed the night in my room the night before an exam. They all got wasted and came home around 3 AM. Wasted morons are not quiet, particularly when they order McDonald’s and watch a movie.
There was also the week V’s man stayed the night. This was also the week I got 4 hours of sleep a night because I was working on a huge CS project and a huge CJ research paper. He was fond of really **c***g late-night action movies. If I asked them to turn the movie down, I either got no response, or they turned up the volume.
The ONE time I tried to watch a TV show, Val attempted to force me to turn it off and was super p*ssed at me. I was watching Frontline when she came home. Not wanting to annoy her but really wanting to finish the show, I turned the volume down kind of quiet. She wanted to talk to her man. She didn’t ask or anything, just turned on Skype and started crying about how she was failing three of her classes.
I turned up the TV, and she yelled at me to turn that **** down. I watched TV another hour and just got in a volume war with her.
She liked to complain about how poor she was. She went on two vacations to Florida that year. She was really poor.
Luckily, Val was rarely around the last two months of school. Unluckily, she lived out of suitcases that she left in the middle of the walkway.
Asking her to pick them up never did anything. She also brought back about 10 new shirts every time she came back to the dorm.
If I ever see her again, I might have to punch her in the face.”
9. Two Words To Describe Him: A Liar And A Creep
“He pretended to have s*x with a girl so we would think he was cool and then j*cked off into a c*ndom and threw it on my bed. I guess so I would think the s*x was that crazy.
One of the first nights at school, I tried to go out with him because he seemed to know people who partied. He invited me to meet him at a party 20 minutes away by walking, and when I got there, he told me he couldn’t let me in because it wasn’t his party.
He bought a mesh garbage can from Bed Bath & Beyond and threw up in it the first night of school.
He didn’t clean it up. Once it dried, the vomit never came out. I had to carry the vomit-covered trash can across the floor to take it out for the rest of the year.
On parents’ weekend, my mom made me two entire plates of cookies. She offered my roommate a cookie. He politely declined (he was very cordial to adults). Then while my parents and I were out to dinner, he got high and ate all the cookies.
At least that let my parents see the kind of person he was.
The first week of school, I was webcamming with my girl and jokingly said she should take her shirt off. The next day, I found out there was a rumor going around that I liked to climb onto my desk and hump my computer when webcamming with her. I had to diffuse that rumor with everyone I met.
I would also occasionally find out other random tidbits of b****h** information he’d tell people to make me look bad. I guess he thought it made him look better.
He used to beg my friends and I to take shots with him at 4 am because if he wasn’t drinking alone, he wasn’t an alcoholic.
If I was trying to study in the room, he would watch random, unfunny cartoons and laugh sporadically and loudly, to the point that headphones weren’t even enough to drive out the noise.
I would get undressed with the lights off if he was in bed before me. I know. **** me for being that nice.
In the same vein, his alarm clock would go off at 7 am every day, and he never needed to get up that early. Half the time, he just forgot to change it. Half the time, he’d just skip whatever class he had. It was so piercingly loud, it would wake up our entire half of the floor.
And it was a few feet from my head.
Oh, and he just plain stole ****. All the time. Shot glasses, books, lighters, alcohol, pencils, food, drinks, really anything he thought I wouldn’t notice. I always **c***g noticed. He tried to steal more valuable things too, but I always caught him before he got away with it but also before I could prove he tried.
On top of all this, he was just generally creepy. His media choices all involved guns and drug addiction. He talked about making other d***s in the room. His favorite pastime (albeit an unsuccessful one, thank god) was face-**c***g girls (we never figured out exactly what he meant by that), and he would just insert himself into situations without any attempt at interacting with the people in them.
I actually would have felt bad for his social ineptitude if I hadn’t quickly figured out it was a complete sham so that he could steal from or manipulate anyone who trusted him.”
8. He Acted Like He Was King Of Our Dorm But Was Really Just An Idiot
“Juan was my first-year roommate, and we shared an apartment-style dormitory with four people. There was kitchen, a shared fridge, two washrooms, and the place was brand new. We were four strangers brought together from different countries and different backgrounds.
But through our experience with Juan, we would become much more. The suffering we endured would bond us forever. Juan in every sense was socially r*tarded, and he continually redefined that term. Let me begin.
Juan took the term freeloading to a whole new level. He had the concept that our apartment was a communist apartment because he would eat, wear, and spend our money as he pleased. To Juan, what’s yours was his.
In the beginning, we would put all of our food in the shared fridge. That was until Juan started eating all of our food. And the thing was, he was bold about it. He would literally eat your food in front of your face. And when you confronted him about it, he would just laugh at you and smack you on the back like it was okay.
One time I walked in on him cooking my steak that was marinating in the fridge. I yelled at him and said, “What the **** are you doing,” to which you replied, “Oh, you want some too?”
He just wouldn’t get it. No matter how mad you got at Juan, he would just smile and laugh at you. It was so infuriating. No matter what you did, it wouldn’t register to him that he was doing something wrong.
We eventually got all of our own personal fridges in our rooms. When that happened, Juan started raiding other fridges like a Tusken Raider. He would literally open people’s doors and go into their fridges and steal food. When confronted, he would run away faster than you could say, “Zoidberg!” Then everyone started locking their doors. Only then did Juan start buying food, and let me tell you, I was astonished. I have never seen anyone survive on a strict diet of hotdogs, bread, milk, and cereal.
Juan would also try on my clothes. He would go into my room and go through my wardrobe. He would try on my dress shirts and anything else that he thought suited him. The best part was confronting him about it. He would look me dead in the eye and say, “Does this look good?” “GET THE **** OUTTA MY ROOM” was my usual response.
Cleanliness was also another issue.
Juan never washed his hands. We had to train him (literally) to wash his hand after using the toilet. We would shout words of encouragement like, “Wash your hands,” “Don’t forget the soap!” He also had a habit of throwing **** toilet paper on the ground. I would later learn that in his county, one would not flush with paper due to pipe clogging. But why throw it on the ground!?
Why not the garbage can that was two feet from the toilet!? The best part was watching him pick it up with his bare hands.
Juan at parties was “that guy.” I was convinced that Juan had no interaction with the opposite s*x. Everything he said to a female was derogatory, vile, stupid, and dumbfounding. I remember Juan was trying to impress a girl at a party, and you know what he did?
He lifted her in mid-air with a skirt on and dropped her on her head. I’m pretty sure the girl received minor brain damage. When that didn’t work, Juan would stalk the girls off-campus. One time, a girl screamed at him, “Why were you watching me sleep!!????” Yeah, he was “that guy.”
To make matters worse, Juan would follow me around. Having Juan around you was like spraying a dead skunk as cologne.
I tried everything to shake him, but he would be there lurking in the corner c*ckblocking me at every chance he got or doing something equally stupid.”
7. Too Much Drama For One Flat
I’d be gone in a split second.
“I moved out of home last year into a flat in the city where I was going to university. My flatmates were three girls from my school. Originally I was going to flat with other friends, but they pulled out at the last moment. These girls from my school, Olive, Jackie, and Lauren, needed one more person to fill their flat and heard I was looking for a place.
I accepted as I had gotten along with them fine at school. Some of my friends thought it was a bad idea. I had one friend who lived in the boarding house with them at school, and she was like, ‘Well, I wouldn’t live with them; they would drive me crazy.’
For the first while, it was all good. The house functioned fine, we all got along, and I enjoyed the wider circle of friends that spent time at our flat, and my friends were often around.
However, Lauren was a bit of a sl*t. During the 6 or so months that I ended up living with her, I think she slept with around about 10 guys? That’s how much I know of; she was kinda secretive about it. But she had a bit of a reputation for sl*ttiness at school. My mate, Dave, was part of the first XV rugby at our school, and he said that there was a kinda ‘checklist’ for the first XV which included such ****** achievements as Redhead, Threesome, ******, etc. Lauren was notorious enough for her own spot on the list.
This promiscuity resulted in both Olive and Jackie kinda ganging up on Lauren by talking *** about her behind her back and ultimately to her face. Lauren moved out. To fill the room, a friend of Jackie’s, Kelsey, moves in. Kelsey is a ****. She smoked in our lounge after I said not to, constantly ****ed about people making too much noise, and just generally went out of her way to be confrontational and negative about everything.
After a few months, she decides to leave, makes no effort to find anyone to replace her, so now were are again looking for a new flatmate.
Olive panics and decides to enroll in tourism school on the south island, (I am a New Zealander) on a whim, as she wasn’t enjoying her course. So now it’s just me and Jackie. We decide to move into another flat, with a few other friends of ours, and begin looking at flats and organizing replacement tenants for the rest of the year.
Olive decided after a few weeks in the South Island that she hated it and wanted to move back, Jess agreed, and they decide that they both want to move in with this new flat we’ve organized, leaving no space for me, as the other rooms were also filled. I decide, *** them and try to sort out what I’m going to be doing.
I happen to talk to an old classmate for my intermediate (age 10-11) and mention my flat issues, and she mentions that she and her friend are looking for a flat and might be able to find another person who is keen as well.
I go for it because I enjoy the place where I’m living, and I still have my mates right?
So Anna, Georgia, and Kirsty move in. These girls are filthy b********. Anna and Georgia are inseparable stoner idiot rotary engine obsessed best friends who are supposed to be going to Wintec, but instead, just chill out and get stoned all day and just giggle in their own ***ed up little stoner language.
I’m not going to lie: I smoke a bit myself, but I like to think I think about cool, buzzy concepts, watch nature and space docos, play awesome music, do fun things. These girls turn into gibbering, drooling idiots, to the point where you can’t even understand what they are saying.
The other girl Kirsty, I think came from a foster child type of background, and she was insane.
I remember once these Maori kids (about 16 years old) turned up on our front yard at about 3 am wanting to fight. Apparently, they got jumped outside our house, and when they saw us coming home, they assumed it was us and wanted to ‘smash us.’ We go outside to chill out the situation, I tell them it wasn’t us who jumped them and that we don’t want to fight or anything dumb like that, and then when everything is sorted, and they are walking away Kirsty yelled, ‘Yeah, *** off, you dumb ******!’ which of course escalated everything again.
Kirsty was also very flirtatious. She would often come into my room and roll around on my bed in skimpy shorts and singlets and would rub up against me in the kitchen. She had a nice body, but she was mind-numbing to talk to. I’m glad I never went there.
The house turned into scum with all of their rotary-van driving, filthy dubstep listening, scumbag **** chilling at our place a bit.
One guy who came around grew up on the west coast and only spoke Maori until he was like 14 years old. During this time, I had 50 dollars stolen from my room, as well as both of my PS3 controllers. Not surprisingly, all three of these girls starting getting behind on bills. Kirsty ended up skipping town, and none of us could get into contact with her.
Georgia and Anna decided to give up on the whole flatting thing. We terminated our lease, and I went back home and lived with mum and dad over the summer and worked to pay off the outstanding bills we owed.
And that was my first year out of home.”
6. She Was Quiet At First, But Then Her Evilness Shone Through
Sometimes it’s the quietest people who surprise you the most.
“I never thought I’d be one of the unlucky ones to get a terrible roommate freshman year.
I had high hopes that summer, and those hopes were subsequently dashed after a week of living with the worst person I’d ever encountered in my life.
I should’ve seen the warning signs when she didn’t email me and the other roommate (we were in a triple) when we started corresponding before the big move-in. I assumed, her being Russian and all, maybe she was shy, or she just wasn’t big on the whole technology thing.
Anyway, we knew next to nothing about her, even her Facebook page was sparse save for a few absolutely obnoxious profile pictures. (She was into taking mirror shots with this weird duckface, stiff lip thing going on.)
She seemed perfectly nice when I met her for the first time, if not a bit quiet, but little did I know the evil that lurked behind her glasses.
When I got back to my room, I decided to play some music while I got my side (which was pathetically small) sorted out and cleaned. I was blasting Queen when our other roomie came in. With a sour expression, she asked in a thick Russian accent, “Is this that gay Freddie guy? I hate gay people. Please don’t play their music.”
I stood there, flabbergasted, that someone who I knew so little, would say something so terrible when I had barely had spoken to her.
I don’t really remember what I said after that, but it was along the lines of, “Are you homophobic? I’m not going to stop playing Queen or any of the gay artists that I love.” She outright admitted to being somewhat homophobic, although she wasn’t particularly scared of them seeing as she didn’t believe there was such a thing as being gay anyway.
*** went down that semester, so much *** that it’s impossible not to have to write 2 pages worth of a story to get it all down.
So here is a bulleted list:
-
She gave me and my roommate terrible colds practically the first day she arrived by getting snot everywhere. She then wondered aloud, “Where are tissues?” and refused to get any; my roommate had to get them.
-
She woke up EVERY MORNING at 5 or 6 in the morning. EVERY MORNING.
-
She went to bed at 9:30, and even if she went to bed at 4, she’d get up at the same time.
She scoffed at me for sleeping in and thought it was bad for us to get so much sleep. (Oh, and she wanted to go to med school. Really?)
-
She told me once that she could see the devil in people and that our roommate surely had the devil in her.
-
She stood in front of her vanity mirror for 10 minutes every morning and stared at herself making the duckface stiff lip thing for 10 solid minutes.
EVERY MORNING.
-
She demanded that we be quiet and have the lights off at 9:30, or she’d be loud in the morning. She was loud anyway, even when we weren’t.
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She criticized our living areas; she was offended at any sort of undergarment being left out.
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SHE NEVER LEFT THE ROOM. She also had no friends, whatsoever.
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She was extremely rich. This isn’t really a problem, but it was strange.
She once let me borrow a towel, and she didn’t want it back. (Probably because I was evil and dirty.) I kept it, and at the end of the year, I looked at the tag and saw that it was a Ralph Lauren towel. What the ***.
-
She made lots of annoying little noises constantly and would make ludicrous statements and complaints.
At the end of the first semester, my roommate and I had bonded over our shared hatred for our little Gorbachev and wanted her out.
Our building of freshmen was de-tripling, so we were hoping we’d have to separate soon. (It wasn’t mandatory to separate, however.) Of course, our little Gorbachev was the first to see the notice that we had the option to separate, and SURPRISE SURPRISE, she says in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’m not leaving.” I wanted to cry at that point. I was really worried my roommate would leave me with her, and I’d be stuck in Russian ****.
I basically went off on the ****, asking her WHY IN THE **** she’d want to continue living with us if she seemed to hate it so d*mn much. She liked how cheap living with two roommates was (what the ***), and she honestly didn’t care if we didn’t like her.
My roommate and I eventually convinced her to move out by telling her that the dorm she’d be living in was right next to the library, and it was really quiet.
She finally agreed, and my roommate and I had a great time the night. She left by playing gay a** music after 9:30.”
5. Always Disturbing Me While I'm Studying
But of course they don’t like it when you do the same thing back to them.
“This is another petty story about my two-year roommate during my time living on campus during college.
A little backstory for this one: When we first started rooming together, NJ had an addition to both WoW and Runescape.
While the games, themselves, are not important for the story, his underlying addiction to games is important.
One character trait of NJ which I could never understand was how he preferred to study – not just complete his homework: study in loud environments. While I understand some people prefer this, I believe it is an important aspect of cohabitation to recognize and respect different lifestyles.
One Wednesday night, I chose to settle in and study in my room as our libraries were consistently too noisy, even in the designated quiet areas.
NJ was well-aware of this as I had voiced these complaints before. He, consistent with his nature, chose to go out drinking on that Wednesday night. Rather than going elsewhere to pregame, he chose to invite some girls over to drink in our room before going out. “Don’t worry, we’re just meeting here then we’re going over to so-and-so’s place before the bars,” NJ said.
They come over in full, already-tipsy force, loud as can be, talking about what one of them saw on Facebook or who was in the library or whatever. Half an hour passes, and NJ says they’re waiting for two more people.
An hour goes by; NJ says that they’re still waiting but that he will bring them elsewhere, so I can study. An hour and a half now, they’re still there, so I grab my things and go to the library to study, despite its distracting noise levels.
I had a terribly difficult night of studying. He never apologized for the distraction the next day.
The next test for which NJ needed to study, he chose to procrastinate until the morning of the day before the test. Knowing I had a prescription but having never tried it himself, he asked me if I thought Adderall would help him focus and if he could buy one of mine to help him cram.
”Ha!” I thought.
“You want ME to help YOU study now?” So, I think about it for a moment, then I insisted that he just have one, no payment required.
I checked the time and made sure to watch him take it, and then I left. I came back forty-five minutes later, knowing he would start feeling the effects soon. Keeping in mind that he was easily hooked on video games and, knowing that he had never played it (learned in an unrelated conversation a while ago, though I was quite surprised he never had), I introduced him to Bejeweled. He was hooked.
I left, came back ten hours later to find him happy as a clam, still playing Bejeweled, and none of his study materials moved at all.
I smiled and cracked open a drink. His test did not go well.”
Another Users Comments:
“Dorm rooms are the most important places to sleep and study, so it’s not at all ridiculous to expect some quiet.” atrobro
4. She's Just A Little Deranged...
More like a lot.
“I just saw a post from my old roommate in a Facebook group looking for new victims roommates in a new apartment. Out of curiosity, I searched her name in the group and realized she has been moving from one apartment building to another every year (renting contracts are often 4+ years, so she’s breaking them all and paying a ton of fees) and is always searching for new roommates.
I can’t say I’m surprised.
When you look at her (let’s call her Isadora), she’s absolutely GORGEOUS: nose job, b**b job, top-model kind of body, worked out like crazy, traveled the whole world just for fun, went to the best parties and restaurants in town, you get the picture. Unfortunately, dumb as a box of rocks and, as I was soon to found out, completely bonkers.
She would often misplace her stuff and go berserk on the other two of us for stealing her “expensive ***” – then she would find them in random places around her room and say we were trying to cover it up.
She was also constantly paranoid that people were trying to get into the house to steal her expensive stuff because she had jewelry and designer clothes, and everyone knew she was filthy rich… Except she wasn’t.
Her man had money though, and he was a complete *****, which to her was OK. I remember her saying how she decided he was partner material (and I swear those were her exact words): he paid for an expensive trip for both of them and a friend of hers, let Isadora buy absolutely everything and anything she wanted, and also paid for all other expenses like expensive as *** restaurants and parties.
Just out of clothing and random ***, Isadora alone spent over $10k because she was testing her limits, and “he didn’t even try to have s*x with her after paying that much on *** she didn’t even need.”
He was also over $2m high, had blue eyes (and to her those were a must), and a kid and ex-wife he was legally not allowed to see, which was not a red flag at all.(She thought it was cool because she didn’t need to share his attention and even made horrible jokes about how she wished they both died in some accident, so she didn’t need to share the guy’s money once they got married.)
During the year I lived with her, I found out he was the one to pay for many of her plastic surgeries.
As for the “jewelry and designer’s clothes” she had, they were all fake (don’t know if she knew that), and her other clothes were all fast-fashion from the same stores we all bought. She would also have horrible fights with her man all the time, even inside our no-men-allowed-apartment, and once again would go berserk on us for no reason at all.
Sadly, she was complete garbage of a human being, treated us horribly, never cleaned or paid for anything around the house (her father rented the apartment, so we could not kick her out), so with time, the other roommate and I just gave up trying to help her.
The cherry on top was when she asked to borrow my notebook to “fill an application for a new job.” I asked what happened to her own notebook, and we proceeded to have the following conversation:
Isadora: “Mine is too expensive. My man bought it for me in the US, so it’s in English, and I don’t know any English. And it’s also from that very expensive brand, so it’s very difficult to use.”
Me: “Oh, so it’s a Mac? I can try to help you with it if you’d like.”
I: “No, not a Mac but that other really expensive brand.
I’d rather use yours; it seems to be a lot simpler.”
Spoiler alert: Her notebook was the most basic Asus one could find – but everything was, indeed, in English, so I can kind of understand the challenge. I lend her my notebook, and she locks herself in her room from where she didn’t leave for HOURS. When she gave it back to me, the trash was empty, and the history was all cleaned out.
I just ignored it and went on with my life.
WEEKS later, though, I was going through my downloads folder and found a Word file called “Isadora.” You know the feeling when you send an e-mail with an attachment, then download your own attachment to see if it was sent out ok? That was the case, and she forgot to delete the downloaded version.
I did consider just deleting it instead of reading it… For like 3 minutes.
Then I opened what I found out to be the longest, craziest, and more worrying letter I’ve ever read.
It was, of course, to her partner, almost 10 pages long. In the letter, she mentioned things like him getting tons of nudes on his cellphone from dozens of girls he promised to get into the luxury parties he worked on for free. He going psycho on her for having “too much fun” at her own birthday party and getting hugs from her friends and actually flipping the restaurant table during a tantrum.
Also “grabbing her too hard and leaving her all bruised because she was speaking to male friends at a party” and “paying for the surgery without her knowing and convincing her to do it against her will, and now she would probably never be able to have kids again.”
The thing is, abortion is still illegal in my country.
You can either pay a ton of money to have one in a more-or-less safe environment or pay less to probably die during surgery at a shady place.
Even though she never used the word “abortion” in the letter, both I and the other roommate (who knew her for longer and had the information I didn’t at the time) were convinced that, that was the case. To top all suspicions, we found a sh*tload of prescription drug packages and empty bottles of cheap booze under her bed (remember how she never cleaned after herself?) – some of the meds were for very specific symptoms/diseases she surely didn’t have.
It broke our hearts, and we started planning on how we could try and help her.
But she still treated us like trash, and every time we tried to talk about her man, she accused us of being jealous and trying to steal him from her.
Sometime later after the letter episode, he proposed, and after being told that she could choose the honeymoon location and all details for the party, no matter how expensive, she said yes (and started planning for a wedding in some castle in France).
They went to a safari in Africa to celebrate, and he dumped her after the engagement trip.”
3. Just About Worse Than A Hoarder
“And I say this as someone who grew up in a house with hoarder parents.
At least my psycho hoarder parents would rinse a dish.
I never should’ve given her the landlord’s info after showing her the room, but I was rushing to find someone because last time we let the landlord choose someone, we got bike thief druggies, and a friend spoke well of her as a person.
The first problem was her smoking. I’ve lived with smokers before who are considerate about it, and they’re fine.
I kept coming home to or waking up coughing to the house filled with smoke.
I would step outside to find her sitting facing doors or windows and smoking with a pile of already smoked cigs next to her. I told her it was all coming into the house, and she seemed shocked. I told her, “Hey, it’s not your fault the house is a drafty piece of ***, but it is.
You need to smoke further away.” She said okay.
A couple of hours later, I stepped out to find her lighting up while plopped down in the exact same spot.
I stared at her and said, “Didn’t we literally just talk about this?” She made another shocked face and told me, “Oh, did you mean I should stop like right now? Oh my God, can you actually smell it?
I’m so embarrassed.” Multiple times throughout the day and night the house would get filled with smoke, and I’d step outside to find her doing the same thing. She’d grab her phone and waddle away. Or if I said something before she could, she’d look at with a lit cig in her hand and say, “I’m not even smoking out here!”
Then her solution changed to trying to hide it.
She’d burn so many scented candles and incense sticks, you couldn’t breathe. I told her it didn’t cover that she was smoking right next to the house anyway, and it was making me horribly sick.
Eventually, I gave up and contacted the landlord. He never responds to messages, but he actually got back to me and was so annoyed, he said he’d be calling her immediately and telling her to stay at least 20 feet from the property when smoking.
Dishes. Oh my God, the dishes.
When she was moving in, she said she had a lot of kitchen gadgets and such. I told her, “Hey, you do you. I do some baking but nothing crazy, so there’s lots of room in the kitchen, so feel free to find a space for your stuff.” The walls, tables, and drawers are filled with stuff. She owns multiples, and I seriously think it’s because of her refusing to clean.
She uses little tin sauce cups like you’d get in a restaurant, and multiple times, there’d be a pile of them building in the sink.
I decided to just wash them myself once, and when I went to grab them, my finger sunk into old, moldy sauce. She had never even rinsed them a little, so they were all just flipped over in the sink but filled with rotten food.
Around Thanksgiving, she made something with a big slow cooker thing. I went away for a couple of weeks and came back to it still on our little counter. I had decided I wasn’t cleaning any more of her ***, so I left it.
It sat there for nearly a month. It started to smell, and when I looked inside, it was full of juices and grease and bones with grayish fuzzy chunks of mold growing on the inside.
I texted her and asked, “Can you please clean your slow cooker ASAP?” and told her about the mold. She came out of her room and huffed and puffed and slammed things around while cleaning it in a tantrum.
Wino. I have a drink at home once in a while too.
But she gets stupid sloppy wine drunk. A friend of hers moved into a vacant room, and they’ll down a bottle of cheap wine each and be disasters all night.
Have yelling conversations on speakerphone, dropping and breaking things, stumbling and falling all over the place until like 3 am.
She thinks she’s helpful. A few times after she first moved in, I would get text messages from her telling me she had swept.
And saying it like it was a huge favor.
I would say thanks or not respond ’cause sweeping is just kind of what you’re supposed to do?
But she half-a**ed to a level I haven’t seen before. She would sweep up little piles and leave them on the floor. Or one giant pile, and it would be underneath a towel or hidden in a corner. And she seemed to just drop the broom on the floor when she was ‘done.’ Like she got raptured mid chore. I asked her once to put the broom back where it goes when she’s done (in a nook connected to the kitchen where we put cleaning supplies).
She stared at me incredulously with her mouth hanging open and sighed heavily then said, “You mean like EVERY TIME?!” I replied “Um.. Yes? Like when you’re done using something, put it back where it goes?” She looked from the broom, to the nook, and to me before sighing dramatically again and saying, “Well I mean.. I guess I can TRY.” She did not try.
Literal ***. I constantly have to clean the toilet before I can use it. I think she doesn’t know how to uhhh align herself on the toilet? She leaves *** scrapes on the toilet, and once, drops of liquid *** and period ***** on the floor.. And no one’s *** doesn’t stink, but that bathroom is a health hazard when she gets done with it.
If I liked her, I’d genuinely be concerned about her health for how bad it is.
Her habit is to drink a bunch of wine, drink a bunch of coffee, smoke a bunch, then explode in the bathroom, and it lingers for like an hour. I’ve bought odor eater sprays and left them on the bathroom counter as a hint, but I don’t think she’s ever used it.
Quarantine. You’d think a smoker with probably damaged lungs would be extra worried about what could happen if someone brought ***** into the house.
No. As soon as her hours got cut, she started having a weird, dingy dude basically living in the house for 2-3 days each week. The first time I saw him, I genuinely thought a homeless man had broken in. Just dirty, smelly layers upon layers of clothing with knotted, dirty hair.
After the landlord told her the smoking near the house had to stop, her attitude cranked up to 11.
She was already a stupid slob, but now she’s an angry stupid slob.
She started telling lies about me to her friend who had moved in, who would then come to me and ask me about it.
I tell her, “No, not true” and told her about my email to the landlord and how she interestingly started spreading stuff right when that happened. The friend shrugged and said, “Yeah, I know what she’s like” and seems like a play both sides type.
We had one of those conversations last night, and I woke up to my makeup bottles emptied onto my shower towels and my hair products all tossed on the floor.
I wish moving was an easier option right now. With *****, my job future is unclear, and I live close to my work, so it has been a blessing that I don’t have to use public transportation to get there.
Even with my usual hours, I couldn’t really afford anything else in the area.
I got stupid lucky to find this place when I did. And I just spent thousands of dollars on surgery less than a month ago. I wish I could believe she’d move out, but if she’s too lazy to put away a broom, I don’t have much faith she’s going to find a new place to make a sty.
I wish I knew how her previous victims had gotten her to leave.”
2. The Kitchen Flooder
“It’s going on three years since I’ve been living with my roommate.
For the most part, we get along just fine.
She’s gone half of the time, she pays her half of rent/bills on time, and she respects my space and property. I’ve had pretty awful roommates in the past, so I know exactly what that’s like.
The only issue is she’s really inconsiderate sometimes. She always keeps her own personal space very clean and neat (seriously, her room and bathroom are always pristine!), but she seems to be incapable of extending that same care and courtesy to the common areas of our apartment, especially the kitchen.
For a while, I was always cleaning up after her, until I got tired and sat her down, and we had a mature conversation about it.
For a moment, things seemed better, but then after a while, she was back to doing the same thing. Also, whenever something breaks in the apartment, if I don’t take steps to get it repaired, she will never submit a request to have maintenance repair it. She just ignores it until I do something about it.
It’s like she can’t be bothered.
A couple of days ago, she noticed there was an issue with the kitchen sink where it would slowly leak on the floor, and instead of reporting it to maintenance, she just ignored it and waited for me to do something about it. Long story short, it got worse fast before I could do anything about it and eventually resulted in the sink completely breaking and water spraying everywhere and flooding the kitchen in our apartment.
We had to call the fire department because it flooded so fast.
To make things worse, she was mostly useless during this entire crisis. While I was trying to keep water from going everywhere and trying to locate the water shut-off valves, she could barely call the emergency maintenance/fire department. And when the fire department left, I had to ask her to help me finish drying everything in the kitchen because she just went back to her room like we didn’t have a bunch of wet surfaces and items that needed to be dried.
This seems like the culmination of her indifference to our shared living space, and I find myself so annoyed and angry. Had she acted when she first noticed the issue, we wouldn’t have had to deal with this mess.
I feel like we need to have another conversation, but I hate that I have to basically lecture a grown adult to do things that they shouldn’t need to be told to do (because that’s what it feels like).
She can also be a bit defensive when confronted so this makes me dread the conversation even more.
All I want is to not be the only person responsible for keeping our common areas clean or making sure things get repaired when they break. I don’t think it’s too much to ask. I don’t know. This is more of a rant, I guess.”
1. They Had No Concept Of Balancing Their Partying And Academics
“I’ll start it off by saying that I lived with one of my high school friends my freshman year of college.
That was both a mistake and a blessing. Things started off fairly well, with both of us being social and making some friends.
Quick back story: my roommate and I used to smoke p*t and experiment with a few d***s while we were in high school. I still smoked some p*t my freshman year but mostly on the downlow. There was no down low about my roommate smoking p*t.
Within the first two weeks of being there, he wanted to buy a quarter-pound of p*t to sell and smoke for free. We always had people calling and stopping over to pick up some p*t. Granted, I’m not against people smoking p*t, but I am against people jeopardizing my college career by having the **** all over the place. We also lived right next door to the RA who was not a bad guy, but I was unsure if he was “cool.” My roommate would smoke and do other various d***s in our room.
At this point, it still was not that bad. I still talked to him, and he still went to some of his classes.
After a few months, he made friends with some shady characters within our dorm. These are the kind of dudes you do not want hanging out in your room for fear of your possessions being ruined. I was trying to be a somewhat responsible college student, balancing my drinking/social life and my academics.
I had 8 am classes all year my freshman year, and these dudes would be up until about 6 am “partying” in a drug-addicted, introverted sort of way… In our God d*mned room. I would frequently wake up to lines of whatever cut out on my desk, with booze splashed all over my laptop. I would get the, “Aw man, we’re sorry we woke you up.” They would drink, snort, smoke, and play Madden until the sun came up about 5 times a week.
There would also be the occasional puking incident in the room. By occasional, I mean about once a week someone would be blowing chunks on something. People would be p*ssing off of our balcony (little sh*tty balcony we had in our freshmen dorms) onto whatever was below. I stored my soccer equipment on the balcony… cleats and stuff like that. Generally, pretty nice stuff.
I just didn’t want to make the room smell like sports shoes. These all got ralphed on. They promised to replace… never happened. All of this nonsense went on the rest of the year.
The crappy thing was that I was pretty decent friends with the kid’s parents. He would go off mid-week sometimes with his 2 friends to some other place in the city and completely lose touch with the world.
They would come home with some ridiculously stupid citations from the police. I seriously had to check the kid for a pulse sometimes when he would pass out. He ended up having to do some police program to try to clear his record. That worked out so well that I ended up p*****g in a water bottle for him to try to cheat a drug test. I also drove him into the testing center for this drug test. Well, there was a lady standing at the door while he was probably dumping my urine in the drug test cup.
She must have heard the plastic bottle crackle or whatever because he got caught cheating that one. That was pretty awkward as my pee was in the bottle, and I knew he was being busted for cheating the drug test. I felt bad for the kid and still do to some extent. He was a pretty smart and athletic kid who I had known for probably 10 years before then.
The whole partying real late routine went on until the year was over, but we parted ways after that. Best decision of my life. He ended up not making it through school, still lives at home with his parents, and had a kid with a psychotic girl. I have a solid job and haven’t lived at home since my little post-graduation victory tour.”
