People Vent About The Roomies They Regret Living With
19. He Was Obsessed With My Feet
She made it clear she was uncomfortable, and he kept trying to make a move on her feet.
Like, woah there.
“So this roommate (M28) has lived with us for about a year now. For the most part, it is has been cordial. We don’t really hang out or talk unless it’s small talk in the hallway or kitchen.
The other night, I was in the kitchen making dinner when my roommate comes up and asks me if anyone has ever told me I have pretty feet.
I was a little taken aback.
I tell him truthfully, no, never. He’s incredulous. “Really? No one ever!?” He’s like, I’ve never seen a foot like that in my life. He is literally staring at my feet.
I’m in the process of making dinner and try to change the subject when he asks if I’ve ever had a massage. Again, no never.
He is still staring. He tells me, “I’m sorry. I’m embarrassed; I’m not being myself I’m a little intoxicated,” and then leaves, only to immediately come back and continue to stare at my feet.
“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable or feel afraid.”
“No, of course not.” (That was a lie; I was super uncomfortable but was just trying to appease him).
I did say well I’m about 10% uncomfortable, and he tells me, “Oh, that’s too much.”
Again, he leaves. Again, I think the weirdness is over.
And yet again he returns. This time, he asks to get close to it. He strokes the arch of my foot as I’m cooking dinner. I’m like, “Uhhh, this is kind of a lot.”
He’s like, “Oh, I’m sorry.
I didn’t want to do anything weird.” No, you just want to touch my feet.
For a third time, he leaves, and I try to breathe. I try to control myself and my shaking. I wasn’t scared. There’s another roommate (M21) in the apartment who I totally trust. However, I was insanely uncomfortable.
For a third time, he comes back, “Can you just flex your foot?”
I acquiesce because, obviously, I have problems being a people pleaser.
This time he reaches down, strokes the arch, and attempts to take off my sock.
I’m like, “WOAH, too far. What are you doing?”
He finally gets the message apologizes profusely and then leaves.
He has since texted me twice apologizing. The second time, he adds to keep this between us and not tell the other roommate.
(I already did.) I talked to my other roommate who said it was totally inappropriate and if something like that happens again to tell him and that also he will be leaving in a month.
I have been totally avoiding him and staying to myself. He has been acting totally normal and walking around as if nothing happened. I hate feeling uncomfortable in my own home.
I really want to reclaim my space, but I don’t even want to look at him.
So, now, there’s this insanely tense (at least on my part) feeling in the apartment, and I’m just going to try to get through it until he’s gone.”
Another User Comments:
“Get some terrible full-coverage Minions slippers or something. I once had a guy sit down next to me on the bus to tell me I had beautiful feet (I was wearing sandals).
He asked to touch them (no), then asked to rub lotion on them, and before I could even say no again, he had the freaking lotion out and was putting some in his hands! Honestly, all I could do was burst out laughing and firmly be like, “No, dude. You cannot lotion my feet on this freaking bus.” It was a crowded bus, too!” guacamoleo
18. Living With A Controlling Witch
“I live in Iowa. I’m 23 and in graduate school for chemistry at a university. I live in an apartment with three other girls. Two of them are my best friends and I love them, ride or die type!! One of them, though, is honestly really horrible. I’ve been living with these girls since March…. I’m losing my mind.
She won’t let us watch TV in the living room with my two other roommates without making nasty faces, causing a fuss, and just being downright uncooperative and rude.
She won’t let me play my classes for Zoom out loud, but she can whenever she chooses.
She constantly complains about the smells of cooking. My two other roommates and I have one of those Hello Fresh subscriptions, so we cook almost every night, and she always has something to say. “It smells,” basically making us feel bad about eating. And we always spray the kitchen, clean it, and light a candle.
She told one of my roommates the other day, “I don’t really care about anyone, but I expect them to care about me,” but gets really angry when I go out with my other two roommates and hang out without her.
Sometimes we will wake up and use the bathroom or do something in the house at like 9 or 10 am, and she will get mad about us waking her up and sometimes groan or almost yell loudly from her room.
Throw things, slam doors.
She tries to get me to do everything for her. Even work for classes I’m not in. I’m a chem major, and she is getting her graduate degree in literature. Like I don’t know anything about a class for a focus that isn’t mine. And she gets mad and calls me rude if I don’t help her.
I know she has been violent with roommates and others in the past, so sometimes I feel like I have to let her control my life for my safety.
I’m afraid to live in my own house sometimes, set boundaries, and she CONSTANTLY emotional dumps on me. Making everything about her, making me feel bad about everything I do. She has had a rough past from what I can gather, but her behavior is honesty really horrible.
There is so much more I can say in terms of her behavior, but I’ve literally never met someone in my 23 years of life that is so narcissistic and downright selfish. I’m afraid to confront her because she knows private things about my life and we are both from the same small town.
She will make my life a living nightmare. What do I even say??
She scares the life out of me. She thinks I’m her freaking assistant, she plays me like a violin, and I don’t even know what to say. I think the biggest problem is she thinks we’re friends. I would like to be her friend if she wasn’t so insane. She gets mad about me going out without her, so I can’t escape.”
Another User Comments:
“Why would you want to be friends with her?
When she calls you selfish, respond with “So?” “And?” “What’s your point?” When she tells you the world is out to get her, just shrug, “Yeah, stuff happens.” When she pouts at you guys for watching tv, just ignore her. When she says your cooking smells, tell her, “Smells better than that -microwave trash/insert instant meal she probably makes- you’re always making” and say it with a smile like it’s a joke.
When she asks for help on an assignment, “Can’t, I’m too busy,” “Nah, I’m good,” or give her bad tutoring. And c’mon, as long as it doesn’t bother your other roommates, just play your Zoom classes. Who cares about Captain Psycho?
Her thing is all about having some control over you and your time. It works well for her because you’re very non-confrontational, and I imagine you’re the type of person who can’t stand being disliked. But this makes it easy for her to mess with you.
The bargaining chips she has: your secrets.
I’d say ‘who cares’ unless you did something prosecutable like murder or kidnapping. You can’t control what people think about you, and if it gets out, you can always deny it and say your narc roommate is lying.
So, my advice would be to maybe learn some self-defense to deal with her being potentially violent (and buy pepper spray or a pocket knife) and stop being so sympathetic to her plight.
She goes to you because you’re too nice. And normally that works, but your roommate isn’t normal; she’s a controlling piece of garbage.” sloshedbanker
17. Once A Leech, Always A Leech
“So, I live in a student housing complex. My apartment has me and three other men. The good thing is that it’s all private bedrooms and two bathrooms for two roommates each. Anywho, only three of us have vehicles. A little about myself is that I work overnights at a grocery store. I work 40 hours or more because the turnover rate is just bad so then we’re always short-staffed.
I work hard to pay my bills to keep my priorities intact, and whatever I have extra will be for my groceries and necessities.
However, one of my roommates always seems to get on my nerves more and more. He’s the one that doesn’t have a vehicle and/or driver’s license. I always offered to help him get his driver’s license, but he never does put in the effort to do it.
He’s been my roommate for a year and I’m starting to notice that all his actions are to try and get something out of me. He quit his job because he gets money from the government which is how he pays for rent. He also gets an extra $200 for himself. The government gives him money because he was a foster child and from what he told me is that he wanted to keep the benefits upon turning 18 years old.
He just spends all of that money on booze which is why he’s broke all the time. Even when he had a job, he’d still be broke because of his bad spending habits.
I notice he would use my and my other two roommates’ groceries in the kitchen fridge and/or cupboards. He would just help himself to our things without asking and tell us later whenever he sees us in the apartment.
That led me to no choice but to buy a mini-fridge for my private room.
Also, he is nosy. I’d come home, and if he hears me.. he’d come out of his room to brag about his day. He would also try to find out where I’ve been and/or where I’m going. Now I always try to sneak in or sneak out without him hearing or seeing me.
He’ll also ask me for rides to one place, and then I say “yes” and he adds on extra stops. He’d give gas money most times, but it wasn’t enough to cover all of his stops. My other two roommates that have vehicles don’t give him rides to anywhere, one of them always says “no.” The other roommate just keeps to himself and is never home.
What bothers me the most is that he would be nosy and peak in my room whenever my door’s open.
Even if my door is slightly open, it’s like he’ll start a conversation with me while my door is open just to get a peek to see what I have in my small bedroom. I would say something to him like, “You trynna peak?” and his response is always an oblivious lie like, “Oh, I’m just looking at your curtain.
I like how you tie it up like that.” It’s very infuriating to have a roommate like this.
Do not get me wrong, I am a very nice roommate to have.
They all tell me that I am a chill person to have as a roommate. I offer my roommates food sometimes, but that is if only I have enough to spare. I just have one of my roommates always being a nosy, inconsiderate leech.
I’ll get home from working overnights and he’ll have the audacity to ask me for a ride to three different stores like I’m not tired from working an overnight 8-hour shift.
Again, I offered to help him get his driver’s license so he can have his own car… He doesn’t put in the effort. Someone can’t be helped if they don’t put in the effort.
Lastly, I just don’t like people who like to leech and be nosy. That’s about my two biggest pet peeves. I also just don’t know how to handle problems like these without being violent or hostile.”
16. Get Aggressive Out Of Nowhere? I'll Tell The University What You're Doing Behind Closed Doors
“When I first came to university, I was paired with 2 other guys: big, white suburban guy, played the bass, hated the government, smoked like every hour, etc. The other was a small, Indian guy who also smoked often. The two of them real quick became friends and dealers.
As time went on, the white one, let’s call him Steve, begins getting really aggressive with me, paranoid I’m stealing his stash, a white conformist idiot, so on.
Eventually, he started passing subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle threats, even a few death threats.
So about 2 weeks before spring break, I have a friend, a girl, come visit me. I take her out, show her SC and the college, take her back to stay in the room. Steve happens to be up and starts getting aggressive, cussing, and at one point calls my friend white trash.
I was about to lose it, but she calmed me down (the university had a zero-tolerance policy, wasn’t worth getting kicked out). So I decided to get back another way: stop allowing him to smoke in the room.
So she leaves the next day, Sunday, and he begins smoking, as usual, so I tell him he can’t. He tells me to shut up. I tell him he smokes, and I’ll go to the RA.
He lights up, and I walk out straight to the RA and inform him of how my roommate is losing it, aggressive, smoking, so on. He tells me he’ll talk to him soon.
Fast forward the next day, Steve and I are in the room, and he’s saying things like it would be so easy to get me thrown into prison, and I’m a terrible person and whatnot.
I’m shrugging him off which upsets him even more, so he picks up a phone and calls 911, saying he wishes to report an assault case on me.
A few hours later that day, I’m still in the room when he arrives back and begins to smoke again. I tell him he can’t. He tells me to screw off and leaves. So while out I pull out my camera, cover it with a rag, and turn it on to catch audio.
He comes back into the room, and over the next 15 minutes gets more and more aggressive as he states that he smokes and sells stuff from our room at all times and that he only called the cops because I was getting on his butt for smoking in the room, passed a few threats.
After this, I decided I’d heard enough and headed to class, which on my way, I ran again into my RA and informed him of the situation.
He went back, caught Steve smoking, began to write him up, and this all so happened to be right when the police that he called on me arrived. They evaluated the situation and ended up bringing him in for questions. Apparently, he was mentally ill and off his medication, so after dealing with him calling the police with lies, they got him medicated and back to his ward.
The university obviously took their necessary precautions as well.
My other roommate kept in brief contact for a while, filling me in on whatever Steve was up to, and eventually, we all lost contact with him. The rest of the year was lived out pretty nicely, and I have had great roommates since.”
15. My Best Friend Ended Up Being A Lazy Slob
“I’ve lived on my own for about 8 years now. I’ve been through a lot of different situations from living with an ex-lover, roommates, moving back in with family, etc. My last roommate was in her 30s, and we had a great relationship. It was time for me to move out since her partner moved in with us, and I felt like I was intruding on their “love nest.” Kinda sucked being the third wheel in my own home.
It was in a lovely area near the Jersey shore, but I wanted to be closer to my man and the hip city of Asbury, so, recently, I decided to go in on an apartment with my best friend and his chick. This is their first time living on their own (we are in our late 20s), so I knew we were going to have some adjustment periods.
Our house was not in the best area and on a busy road, and the outside of the building looks like trash, but the inside is freshly remodeled.
We have been living together for about 4 months, and I’ve really hated living here. I knew my friends smoked (I don’t smoke but am ok with it), but I didn’t know they smoked like chimneys. When they asked if they could smoke in the house, I thought they smoked once or twice a day, and that’s what they made it out to be.
I hate the smell, but despite that, if they smoked a couple of times a day I could put up with it, but that isn’t the case. They also leave messes all over the place – from open food to clothing strewn all over, etc. Ya know, kid stuff. I’ve found the oven on, toasters on, wax warmers, and lit candles on, all of them through the night.
Thank God I have renters insurance.
I also didn’t know how my best friend lived. He has insomnia, so he never goes to sleep. I’m a very light sleeper and enjoyed the fact that my old roommate had the same schedule as me, but I’m going insane waking up in the middle of the night to hear the TV blaring. Multiple attempts to get him to quiet down have gone unheard.
He also only works 2-3 hours a day, so the fact that these things are so out of hand feels really lazy to me. I try to be understanding with his mental health, but there is a point where it goes past that. I have depression too, but I’ve learned to clean up after myself. I’ve told him that him ignoring me isn’t fair, and he just “yes sorrys” me, which frustrates the life out of me.
An apology without resolution is useless. Any time they have asked me to do something or them airing a grievance about me, I actually do. I feel like they’re not keeping up their end of the bargain.
I feel like I’m living with a 16-year-old boy. I try to be vocal about anything that bothers me, in an appropriate manner. No one can read my mind, and I can’t be angry at them for doing something they don’t know is bothering me.
So I speak up about how the absolute mess of the place messes with my anxiety and mental health (if the place is cluttered, my mind gets cluttered). I tell them I don’t expect the place to be spotless, but maybe the counters not be filled with half-opened boxes of food or bags of groceries placed literally underneath the cabinet they belong in. I ask them to keep the common area clean, so I feel like I belong there too.
I ask that the whole coffee table not be filled with wrappers, empty bottles, and paraphernalia. I even wrote up a chore list and schedule to ease the pressure and to make everyone accountable for their messes. They ignored that after telling me, “Oh, that’s a great idea!”
I’m very fortunate they pay rent on time, but I’m getting so exhausted living here. It’s worse for my mental health than I thought.
I’ve told them these problems and they are either ignoring them or not taking me seriously. I don’t know what else to do. I stay up all night, anxious and angry, and wanting to lash out. I avoid them sometimes because I hate explaining, again, that they are the reason I’m so anxious all the time. I had to force myself to decorate my room, so I felt comfortable there, but now I feel locked away in my 10×10 room.
I have my issues with moving. I wanted this to be the last time I moved until my man and I are ready to move in with each other (we wanted to wait a bit longer since we have only been together a year). This has been move #6 for me in 8 years. I’m exhausted. I never feel like I belong anywhere. I don’t want to move, but at this point, I feel like I have to.
I hate living here. And I don’t want to ruin our friendship; it isn’t worth it. I’ve been spending more time at my man’s house because I can’t stand to be around my friends more than I have to.
I knew I was taking a risk moving in with them, and I know this isn’t the worst situation. But I hate it here, and I want to leave.
We have 8 months left on the lease. I am gainfully employed still. I just don’t know what to do. I hate being in this position. Any advice helps.”
14. Too Nice To Kick Out A Narcissist Roommate
“After I graduated from college, my roommates regrettably moved to be closer to their families. I wasn’t sure if I would have a solid job or not as I was waiting for my school to get back to me about an office position (I was a work-study and already part of the team), so I was looking for a roommate so I wouldn’t have to move because my apartment is freaking awesome.
I met someone online who had mutual friends, was from my hometown, and was starting at my school, so we agreed that she could move into the vacant room upstairs.
After I got my job at school and knew my income, I offered to pay internet, electricity, and $50 more than her for rent since she was a full-time student and was a dealer who’d give me access to her stash.
This actually worked well for a little while as we’re both big smokers and bonded by smoking together. Of course, eventually, she ran out of stuff and money, and I ended up providing stuff for a while, including up to now when she’ll run out and then ask me. There were a few months (MONTHS) where I paid all of the rent because she was fired from her new job after skipping to attend a concert on her birthday, letting me know I didn’t even freaking need a roommate.
Throughout her first year here, I tried to be thoughtful of her lifestyle of being super extroverted and having friends over.
However, I’m extremely introverted, and instead of balancing each other out, she started stepping on my toes and disrespecting me. Her 30-year-old now ex-partner (9 years her senior) who was self-centered, a terrible housemate, and a total creep was over every single weekend from our hometown to spend time with her.
He always left a mess, not to mention a smell of poop by taking a dump before leaving our house every Sunday without using the fan in the bathroom, used my bath towel constantly because he forgot to take one to the bathroom with him, exclusively took baths for some reason, and openly talked about how he wanted to sleep with me (which is so creepy!)
After she finally dumped him, she constantly had people in the house.
4-5 days per week, sometimes every day of the week, and this includes letting people just live at our house for days on end. The last time this happened was after winter break when she brought her friend back and he stayed for a week straight with no consent from me. This same friend came to “take care of her” after her wisdom teeth surgery a few months ago and then took one of my rare smokes (I’m gonna take one of these if you don’t mind, and I was so taken aback I didn’t say no) and then stole something from my roommate, so I think she’s canceled him as a friend now.
I’ve watched her ruin so many romantic and platonic relationships in the last 2 years, including her relationship with me.
She also started doing stick n poke tattoos for money after quitting her serving job in preparation for her busy senior year (though she did this a whole month before school started and quickly hit the bottom of her savings), and soon after she got all of her supplies for this, I found multiple needles just loose in the house, including one sticking point-up on the stairs where she, I, or my cat could have stepped on it.
She also tried to run her tattoo business out of our apartment (again, without asking me). When she told me she was having someone over for a tattoo (she already had her then-friends with benefits, now also canceled by her, over), I had to go upstairs and cry at her for her to cancel it. I was grieving at the time and I had to clarify the next day that I wasn’t ok with having people in and out for tats even when I wasn’t in mourning.
She seemed surprised about the fact that, in April of 2020, I didn’t want people in the house. In hindsight, I wish I’d just let her do it so I could give my landlord a reason to evict her. Side note: staying at home is still recommended in our county right now and yet she is still going to see men at bars, meeting new people, and going to parties (she hasn’t been allowed at school the last two weeks for attending a Halloween party and posting about it on social media).
Some additional grievances:
• Has broken/ruined multiple cups of mine (I’ve only broken one of hers while I was juggling pots and pans SHE left in the sink), not only through accidents but by microwaving a whiskey glass and putting a heat-sensitive mug in the dishwasher.
• Uses my mugs and cups in general even though she owns more than I do. I don’t trust her with my things for obvious reasons.
• Puts dishes in the sink, even when the dishwasher is completely empty.
• Puts pots and pans in the sink and then leaves them for days. Instead of washing them before making more food, she just keeps piling them up until a week has passed. I hound her to wash them (and she’s not very good at washing pans for someone who claims to be a seasoned cook), or I just do them.
• Just leaves garbage everywhere. I’ve found trash in my cat’s poo while cleaning her litter box, the top of a frozen package she cut off, the stopper of her almond milk cartons, old napkins, food, etc. Doesn’t matter that there’s a garbage can 2 feet away; she just abandons garbage wherever.
• She’s left dirty underwear on the kitchen counter. When I sent a picture of it to her, she said, “Oops, lol,” like Jesus, show some freaking shame, you nasty.
• Treats the washing machine like a laundry basket.
• Always talks about herself, her accomplishments, her life, how she thinks this song is about her, how much she’s KILLING her profession despite constantly saying, “Man, I have no money,” tends to interrupt me or ignore me entirely.
• Calls herself an empath. As time goes on, I feel more and more that she’s actually a narcissist.
• Threw a huge fit when I told her not to have a huge birthday party at our place this August or to just wait until the day after when I went to my mom’s house to move stuff out (this is the same time period of my mourning and her tattoo nonsense). She later apologized for acting this way, but seriously, why do you care so much about your 23rd birthday?
I stopped caring about my birthdays at like 19.
• I told her I couldn’t take having people in the house all the time anymore for my own mental health (I wanted this to lead into a “you need to move out” statement, but I was too scared to say it). For a little while, I at least didn’t have to deal with that problem, but she had people over a lot last week and I had to tell her AGAIN to stop bringing people over because this is my freaking space and she can get her social interactions elsewhere.
• Is generally loud, heavy-footed, annoying, and oblivious (unsure if it’s intentional or if she’s just stupid) to people who aren’t sleeping with her. She tends to loudly play TikToks and other things while we’re both on the deck smoking, even when I politely turn videos and music off when she’s there.
• Just a couple of hours ago, I pulled out the toaster oven tray which still had dirty tinfoil on it.
When I took off the tinfoil to throw it away, I found old toppings from a pizza she reheated DAYS ago, totally scorched and glued to the surface of the tray. Cool.
This isn’t even everything. I don’t know why I’ve let her use me like this for so long, but I’m so scared of confrontation. I have plenty of people from friends and family to my BOSS offering to back me up, but I feel like a child asking someone to hold my hand while I tell her to leave.
In all honesty, I need a therapist really badly, but all the sessions are online and I wouldn’t feel like I actually have privacy to talk about it in this nightmare house. It’s already difficult just talking to my psychiatrist once a month (meetings have increased this year because of my roommate, lol). Now I’m just waiting for her to finally graduate, so I can tell her to get out without feeling bad about kicking a student out.”
13. Thanks For Ruining My Last Year At University
“Rented a house for 2 years at uni. At the end of 2nd year, one of my good friends/housemates leaves for a year abroad, so we find another housemate, a nice girl who keeps to herself and is out most of the time, pretty much all you can ask for from a housemate.
Anyway, Christmas of the 2nd year in the house comes around and, out of the blue, this new housemate suddenly announces that they are moving out and have found a replacement the landlord is ok with.
Holy, what awaited us was bad.
After Christmas, we were greeted by a 40 ish ex-student. The first time I met her, she was wearing a blue leotard, leopard print shawl, and what can only be described as pink space boots. Over the remaining 6 months, the following happened:
She claimed to teach pilates and had what she called ‘clients’ up to her room.
Sat up late at night playing an old keyboard.
When we asked her to stop, she said no as she was the next Alicia Keys.
Kept me up at night before an exam watching aerobics videos on her laptop right outside my room because the hallway had a better ‘aura’ than her room.
Setting the smoke alarm off every single mealtime because she couldn’t cook properly.
Being so happy that she was given a free bike then spent days riding it in just a circle in the street.
Proof – I could see her from the window.
Having a priest visit the house, and when he came in, he asked if I was one of the ones picking on her.
Tearing the carpet out of her room and throwing it on the roof because she believed the house was filled with rats.
Calling the paramedics claiming to be having some sort of attack when she wasn’t.
Racking up a $210 phone bill on the house phone by ringing Australia for hours at a time. She then told us we had to pay for it. We didn’t.
Putting massive amounts of bleach in the shower causing my housemate to get bad skin. When asked why she did it, she claimed it’s because she lived with boys and could get pregnant. She then went on to say with conviction that her mom became pregnant when she hugged a man.
I moved out in May after my exams. I couldn’t take anymore and had work lined up. She completely wrecked my final year of uni. I heard from my other housemates that after I left she took to sleeping unclothed in the upstairs hallway.
She was finally kicked out when the last of my housemates left, and she went out on the street trying to rent their rooms off to random people.”
12. Living With A Thieving Compulsive Liar
“Currently dealing with the aftermath of an awful roommate.
Roommate L landed a job out of town for the summer and found J to take over her lease for three months. J had two jobs (seemed responsible), and for the first month or so, we all liked her.
She was nice, social, did weird things like use toilet paper bizarrely quickly, but otherwise, she seemed fine.
Roommate R shares the basement with J, and R threw a small birthday party for a friend one night. J proceeded to invite the entire college basketball and football teams to our small house. Approximately 50 strangers showed up inebriated and screaming all over the neighborhood. The rental manager was called and the uninvited football giants were kicked out.
J never apologized, and after that, we avoided her as much as possible, just waiting for her to move out.
About two weeks ago, rent was due, and J didn’t pay. (Rent is ~10% of her monthly income.) After rent was late a few days, she offered the excuse that someone had stolen her debit card and cleared out her account and that she was working with the police and her bank for a refund.
Around the same time, R received a Snapchat of J wearing one of R’s shirts. She had taken it out of R’s room. I advised R to check her room for more missing things. She quickly realized that $200 was missing from the opaque black jar she kept tips in (it was hidden in an inconspicuous place; someone would have had to really search for it).
We immediately suspected J and set up R’s camera to record video while R was at work. I work from home and was there when J came home and stole $20 from a jar R had set up in the room. Unfortunately, the camera overheated and didn’t catch J in the act.
J was again confronted about her late rent and missed repeated scheduled meetings with rental managers because “her mother was in the hospital.” J told rental managers she had breast cancer.
She told a friend her mother wasn’t in the hospital at all. She also told friends that money had been stolen from her room and that she had set up a camera to catch the thief in the act.
R hid the tip jar in a dirty laundry basket in her closet until she could get to the bank. When she took it out, 300 more dollars were missing.
We called the police, and while they couldn’t do much, they advised us to confront J and get her to confess.
J was evicted for late rent and given a 3-day notice to exit the premises. She agreed to meet with R and me to discuss the stolen money but didn’t arrive when she’d said she would (as we expected). She snuck into the house later that day; I happened to hear her and cornered her, calling the rental managers and R.
We confronted J, and she confessed to stealing over $650 from R and agreed to pay the amount back the next day. The next day she texts R and says she can only pay her $100. R is pressing charges and J has trespassed from our property… It’s been a wild few weeks.
The worst part of the whole ordeal was how J acted. Lie after lie after lie (more unbelievable than the next).
She showed absolutely no remorse and kept talking about the situation as if it had been caused by someone else, i.e., “I’m sorry this happened to you.” Talking to her, I got the sinking feeling that she didn’t have a conscience and that she felt she had a right to the money. It didn’t feel like I was talking to an actual person.
I honestly feel bad for the girl.
She has effectively ruined her life and needs serious help.”
11. Want Me To Sue You? No Problem
“In 2013, one of my best friends from college starts talking about moving to the city where I lived. I was looking for a new place to live as well, so we decided it would be cool to get a place together.
Then all of a sudden, she got a romantic partner and wanted her to come too.
Sure, ok, no problem. We agreed and had written out a contract that I would find an apartment and pay the deposit, then when they arrived, they would pay me back 2/3 of the deposit, and all rent and household bills would be split three ways.
So, they get there and move in. And are incredibly lazy and leave pizza boxes on the floor for days at a time, which at one point, causes an ant infestation.
I send them an email two weeks before rent and utilities are due saying here’s the bill, and here’s how much you owe. They miss the first months’ rent. And then the next four months’ rent after that. I had to enroll in grad school to stop my student loans from billing because I couldn’t afford to keep paying the rent and all the utilities on my own and pay the student loans.
Not paying their portion wasn’t an option either, because where I live, you’re all jointly responsible.
If I don’t pay their portion, we all get evicted.
Eventually, I run out of money and have to use the $5k I inherited from my grandfather when he died to prevent us from being homeless. I even buy their food because I’m a sucker, and they were too lazy to go to the food bank.
As previously mentioned, this went on for several months.
Every month, I would send them an email saying this is how much you already owe, and here’s the new total with this month’s bills added.
They would acknowledge that they owed the money and promised to pay. That never happened, and then one day, they emailed me back stating that me telling them they owed me money that they agreed to pay was impacting their mental health.
By that point, I was pretty fed up and about to become homeless myself, so I was like, “Your mental health is not my responsibility. You agreed to this. Now, you need to pay me what you owe me or get out.”
Their response was to tell me that if I wanted the money, I’d have to sue them.
So I did. I went to the courthouse and filed paperwork for small claims court.
I had them served properly to give them notification of the lawsuit and when the court date was, etc. They moved out a few days later. I notified the landlord that they had abandoned the apartment but left a bunch of stuff behind. She advised me to close the door to their room and not touch it for some months, at which point she’d certify they abandoned the stuff, and I could dispose of it.
The court date came, and I showed up, but they did not. The judge wanted to hear the case anyway, so I presented a stack of papers about an inch and a half thick of printouts of all our emails, chats, and texts regarding getting and paying for the apartment as well as receipts for everything I paid and all the emails with bills due, etc.
He read through all of it, and by the time he got done, he was SUPER angry at them and even more so that they didn’t show up at court.
So, he sided in my favor and awarded me not only everything they owed me but 12% compounding interest until it was paid off. They have never once tried to pay… It’s been now 5 years since the court date.
I am getting ready to sell their debt to a debt collection agency that will give me 70% of what they owe me. Normally, I’d be bummed about that, but it’s been so long that with the compounding interest, I’ll end up getting more than what they owed me to begin with.
Oh, and after however many months went by, and the landlord came to unseal their bedroom door and certify they had abandoned their stuff, she and the maintenance worker she brought with her found poop in the closet.
So, yeah. They were great roommates.”
10. So Many Things Were Wrong With The Dude
Threatening death upon a person is real mature and isn’t going to land you in jail or anything…
“Freshmen year in college, I got roomed up with a guy with a very Russian-sounding name. We will call him Ven.
So on the first day that Ven and I moved into the dorms, we arrived within the same half-hour to move our things in.
His family was very clearly Russian and seemed nice enough. Ven was shorter than I was but was fairly overweight. After the parents left, we had a good chat while we finalized the room and went down for dinner at the dorms later that night. The first hint of the storm to come was when during the awkward, “Hey can we sit at your table, what’s your major?” common freshmen talk.
Ven said nothing and ate four (4) plates of food! After dinner, we both talked about what good students we were going to be as we went to bed early.
So as the semester goes on, he turns out to be an absolute pig. He showered twelve times during the semester. You may ask how I know, but when your roommate doesn’t shower for the first 3 weeks of classes, you and everyone else around that person notices.
I had to start telling him to shower or else we would need to have a conference with the RA or the RD. He then responded by going into the shower and spraying lemon air freshener all over himself. Some might say to have sympathy for the kid because he had “body issues,” but no. He walked around in THE SAME grey boxer briefs all the time, and it was not a pretty sight with his body fat percentage.
Ven washed his clothes twice all semester, at Little Debbie’s by the crate.
This kid was full-blown nocturnal. He was awake until 3-4 am typing on his computer and then he would go to bed and sleep apnea so loud that I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I started getting up at 4:45 just to leave the room, so I wouldn’t have to listen to him snore.
He would sleep until 3 pm, wake up, then yell at me for not waking him up in time for classes.
He constantly told me how smart he was for studying physics, how his father was both an MD and a physicist back in Russia, and how his brother was so smart that he was “legally gifted.” He may have been smart, but no one will ever know because he failed most of his classes due to truancy.
Ven was THE most socially awkward person I have met on earth. When I would take my then partner, or any girl, into my room for any amount of time – which was usually not long due to the stench – he would retreat to the corner and pet a statue of a cat.
He constantly threatened to throw me out the window – which admittedly would have been scarier if he could walk across a room without losing his breath and would draw pictures of foxes and fox-people over everything he touched.
I ended up being able to switch rooms at the end of the semester because he continued to give death threats which the campus police eventually started to take seriously, the room was fumigated while we were gone due to the bed bugs infesting his side of the room since he never washed his sheets, and eventually spread to the entire dorm, not to mention I developed a dependence on sleeping pills in order to sleep through the night with his snoring.
It was a nightmare, but at least it makes a good story now!”
9. Think You Can Mooch? Enjoy Green Skin And Finding Out You're Now Homeless
“In 2017, I took a new job on the other side of my fairly large city. Rather than commute from where I was living now and spend at least 90 minutes driving each way, I decided to move closer to my new job.
I could have got a 1 bedroom apartment on my own, but my budget at the time would only barely manage it. I’m a single guy in my 20s, and I like to go out and order in.
Sure, I could have had my own place, but I would have been eating ramen and staying in most of the time.
So, I leased a 2-bedroom in March 2017 and started advertising for a roommate.
A great guy named Dave got in touch, we seemed to click, and he moved in. I have a pickup truck, so I helped him go get furniture, and he helped me move my stuff to the new place.
We got along great. We were alike enough that we had common interests but different enough that we would have great discussions. Things were fine. We would split the cost of stuff like toilet paper and dish soap.
Neither of us was total slobs, but we weren’t fussy little witches who would complain about a dirty glass left in the sink overnight.
In the meantime, my job was going great. Within six months, I got a promotion and a very hefty raise.
Dave told me he was leaving as of November 1, 2017. I probably should have just covered the apartment myself until the end of the lease on February 28, 2018, but I made a mistake.
Let’s call the mistake “Bro” since that’s what he called everyone else. Bro was Dave’s dealer, had been to the apartment a few times, and needed a place to stay. He seemed like he had his stuff together, was charismatic, and well-groomed. So, Dave moved out, and Bro moved in at the beginning of November.
The trouble started pretty soon afterward. He was vain, always with neatly trimmed blond hair, nice clothes, and $500 sneakers.
That’s where all his money went. He didn’t buy food or anything else. I would buy a loaf of bread, and the next day, there was 1/4 of a loaf left. I would go to take a dump, and there was no paper. I used to leave a big jar of peanut butter in the cupboard. It evaporated.
I would complain to him and tell him to buy his own stuff.
“Yeah, bro, no problem.” But nothing changed.
He didn’t even have a cell phone…. Well, he did, but he never used it. He couldn’t get a plan because of an unpaid account, so he had a pay-as-you-go plan and relied on WhatsApp and Messenger to keep in contact with people… like his customers.
How much do you think he contributed to the Internet bill?
Rent was usually late and never in one chunk. And he was a complete slob, never did dishes or wiped anything down. I don’t think he even knew how to spell “mop.”
I was getting angrier and angrier, and finally, we had a big argument just before Christmas 2017. I basically told him, flat out, that if he didn’t stop using my stuff and start pulling his own weight, then, and I quote, “bad things are gonna happen, and you won’t like it.”
The final straw. I made a bunch of cookies to take with me to visit my family for Christmas. I told him specifically not to touch the stuff in the fridge… and he devoured about 1/3 of it.
Screw you, Bro. Now I am freaking angry, and I am coming for you.
Bro was excited to be going to Costa Rica for a week in February.
One of his friend’s parents had a condo there, and Bro and three friends were planning a trip to stay there for a week. Since their accommodations were free, they could party it up, and I overheard their plans.
I spent a lot of time in my room when Bro and his friends were over playing video games. I have a good headset, so they must have assumed I was playing away rather than listening through the paper-thin walls.
One of the things they were planning to do was “suitcase” some substances back home.
For those of you who don’t know what that means, it’s putting something up your butt to smuggle it. Stuff is cheap in Costa Rica, about 10% of what it costs here, and much stronger. They were planning to bring a smallish amount, a few grams each, then dilute it when they got back and sell it for enough to cover the trip.
Well, it comes time for the trip and time to pull the trigger on my revenge.
HERE WE GO.
Bro and his buddies were leaving on a Saturday morning. I told Bro that I was going to be out of town, so he would have to arrange for his own ride to the airport, but that I would pick him up.
He gave me his flight number for his return flight.
I had a few Coca Colas in the fridge and a chocolate cake that I had taken a few slices from. In the cupboard was a bag of Doritos and some Oreos. I told him, again, not to touch my stuff.
Bro was out of the house on Friday, so before I left, I took every cleaning product in the place in a bag. Every soap, dish soap, vinegar, cleanser, everything.
All of it.
Did I mention that Bro would use my stuff? This included my shampoo and body wash. I use a product called “Irish Spring” body wash, which is a gel that’s a bright emerald green.
So, before I left, I stirred 2 containers of green food coloring into the bottle and put it back in the shower.
Did I mention that Bro had a pale complexion?
Then I got into the admin of the router and filtered the MAC addresses down to my PS3, phone, and desktop, effectively locking him out of the internet.
Saturday morning, my phone started blowing up. I guess Bro went for a shower before leaving for the airport and got more than he thought when he used my Irish Spring as usual. I wish I could have seen it.
He lost his marbles, calling me every name in the book, and threatening to kick my butt when he returned.
BUT THERE’S MORE.
On Sunday when I got back home, the apartment was a disaster. Clearly, he had people over, and they had drunk all my sodas and eaten my munchies.
That’s when I finally replied to him on WhatsApp. He called me almost immediately and started ranting and screaming into the phone, freaking out that he’s freaking GREEN, and it won’t wash out.
No beach, no pool. Calling me a freaking witch, how can I do this to him, etc. I just told him that I had said that if he keeps using my stuff, something would happen that he didn’t like, and he wouldn’t be in this mess if he wasn’t a freaking thief.
Then I told him that he should actually be grateful and thank me.
“Thank you? Thank you for what, you jerk?”
“Thank me for not loading the cake with laxatives, as I had planned to.”
On Tuesday, I messaged him, “Bro, the cops were here looking for you.”
“What? What for?”
“Don’t know, Bro. They just wanted to know where you were.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That you were in Costa Rica but that you were flying back in on Sunday afternoon.”
There were no cops. But he didn’t know that. All he knows is that there was a possibility that they might be waiting for him on arrival, and that if he was discovered smuggling “stuff” from Costa Rica, he would be in BIG trouble. So, there went his suitcasing plans, and there went his plans to pay for his trip.
On Friday, I told him that I wouldn’t be able to pick him up at the airport but not why.
I had given my notice and surrendered the apartment. All week, I packed up my stuff, all of it.
I actually owned the furniture in Bro’s room, but I didn’t want it, so I went into his room, dumped his stuff on the floor, and dragged it down to the dumpster. I slashed the mattress and kicked the dresser and bedside table to matchsticks.
Couch and chairs, too.
Then I emptied the place. Every cup, plate, knife, fork, all of it was either trashed or moved. I did leave ONE small pot, but I drilled a hole in the bottom, just to make my point.
I took the showerhead. I took the shower curtain. I took the shower curtain RINGS. I emptied the place.
I heard later, from Dave, who knew one of the guys that went to Costa Rica with Bro, that Bro had shown up with very little money, and what little he had was soon gone.
He was mooching off the others, and it didn’t take long for them to tire of Bro. Whatever fury they may have felt by The Greening of Bro was soon diffused once they caught wind of his true nature.
I don’t know how he got back from the airport, but on Sunday, he called me freaking out about the apartment.
“Where’s my bed, man?
Where’s my furniture?”
“What furniture? All that stuff was mine, and I didn’t want it anymore.”
“What the heck, man? What did I ever do to you?”
“Aside from stealing my stuff, not pulling your weight, and screwing me over for rent and bills, you mean?”
“Now I have to sleep on the floor? Screw you. Idiot.”
“No, screw YOU, Bro. Just to let you know, I did you a favor.
Now you have fewer things to move. Better get started looking for a new place to live because the management of the building is changing the locks on Wednesday morning.”
Then I blocked Bro. Never heard from him again, but Dave told me he couch-surfed for a few weeks then disappeared. Probably moved out of town, who knows? Good riddance.”
8. He Threatened Me Over One Degree On The Thermostat
First off, you’re not the only one living here, buddy…
“I had a roommate who was a friend of a friend (first mistake). From the start, he seemed oddly fixated on the temperature in the house. As time went on, he got increasingly agitated if the temperature was changed even one degree on the thermostat.
First, it was just him leaving notes about it. Then there was yelling. No one was changing the setting, but he was still freaking his lid out about it.
Everything culminated one night with him banging on my bedroom door at 11 p.m. because our mutual friend had turned the temperature up ONE FREAKING DEGREE, yelling nonsense about how he was going to kill me. Yeah. I hid on the porch (off my second-story bedroom) and called the cops.
The cops didn’t even have the decency to remove him from the property because he wasn’t behind on his rent.
I ended up evicting him and spending a lot of time out of the house for the next two months.
Worst part? Our landlord let him move into the building next door. I spent the next two years terrified to leave my house because he was there. I still panic whenever I see someone that looks remotely like him, now four years on from that living nightmare.”
7. Crazy Is Her Middle Name
“Like Max Black from the sitcom 2 Broke Girls, I had been nervously itching to make a few life changes, particularly after my roommate ditched me to move from NYC to Queens to marry her man. I met Angelique, an exotic, well-traveled blonde through an ad she’d placed in the New York Times advertising her apartment.
Minus starting a cupcake business, I thought we’d do well together.
The night before I moved into the pre-war, two-bedroom, beautifully furnished doorman apartment on East 57th Street to be Angelique’s roommate for the astounding price of $500 a month, I had a bad dream.
In my nightmare, a wicked witch flying around on her broomstick was chasing me cackling at my fear and frustration.
On closer look, I saw that the terrifying witch was Angelique, the German-born, fifty-something-year-old former beauty queen, who owned the apartment.
I woke up shaking. My gut told me to call her and cancel the agreement, but I told my gut to shut up.
Angelique was a fading Heather Locklear. Though she was clearly once a looker, now her face was puffy, with slight frown lines.
White-blonde hair framed her high cheekbones and too-tanned, weathered skin.
She kept the lights dim. I thought at the time, it was to save money.
In her prime, she told me, in her heavy accent, with an ever-present drink in her hand, she was a model and she even managed to unearth old magazine clippings from foreign publications as proof. Her hangouts were NYC perennials like Elaine’s and Michaels.
She was so beautiful, she said, her former partner actually ran across the street to first meet her when the light was green.
I was in awe of her and her history with the other gender (I hadn’t exactly ever cut a swathe through men myself) and didn’t mind chatting with her when I got back from my lowly administrative job at MGM. (My only access to glamour was that I came in early once to find Ted Turner sitting at the reception desk, taking calls).
After the first week, she started complaining, glass in hand, about how unsatisfied she felt with her life, how there were no men to date, how her father never loved her. I tried to participate in the conversation, but I hardly had any relevant answers to her questions and had no idea how to advise her on men.
I made up excuses to leave these “chat sessions” by pleading exhaustion and saying I had to get up early the next morning, while repeating, “I’m sorry, I have to go now.” Even after I closed the door, she kept talking to me.
On weekends I’d get a breather because she’d head off to the Hamptons to work on her “art.” My parents would visit me every Sunday; my mom brought roasted chicken that I would eat for dinner during the week.
One weeknight my dad brought an air conditioner to my room he installed on the windowsill. Suddenly, Angelique appeared on the periphery of my room, shamelessly stretching in front of my father (she practiced yoga), to better display her body.
He acted as politely removed as Don D****r would when faced with an undesirable paramour. “Daddy,” she said, in what she thought was a provocative manner, “you are so nice to your daughter. I wish my daddy had been as nice and handsome as you.”
Soon afterward, I started noticing items had been moved on my night table and had changed place in my closet.
I told my father, and he suggested I put a tiny slip of paper in between the doorframe where it met the ceiling. Sure enough, the piece of paper was on the floor when I got back from work. I felt so much stress that I had trouble sleeping through the night.
This did not help my appearance at the office, where I was bleary-eyed and jumpy.
I figured that I could look for a new pad in the fall, in a month when it would be easier and could tough it out till then.
One day Angelique met me at the door when I got home, berating me for not giving her phone messages (I didn’t even have access to her answering machine). Then, my mother’s roast chicken started disappearing from the refrigerator.
First, it was one piece, then it was two; then the entire chicken disappeared. I asked Angelique if she had eaten my chicken, and she started screaming that I ate her food and that I was stealing from her. “You only keep booze in the refrigerator, I told her. There isn’t any food to steal even if I wanted to take it.”
“If you think I’m stealing from you, why don’t you call the police?” she said.
So I did.
A burly NYC police officer came to our door looking for the perp.
“What did she steal?” he asked wearily, poising with pen on his paperwork.
“She stole my roast chicken.”
“What?” he asked.
“She stole my chicken.”
“Well, officer, I didn’t know the cops around here were so good looking, or I’d try to get arrested all the time,” Angelique said, making direct eye contact.
Then she announced she would be in her bedroom if he wanted to interrogate her further, and flounced out of the room.
The officer put his pen down, looked kindly at me, and said, “Listen, I can’t file a charge because of chicken. But I’d watch out for her, can’t you smell the booze on her breath? Do you have family in the area?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’d find another place to live if I were you,” he told me. “These situations never get better, and you seem like a sweet kid.”
I called my parents and my mother drove over and we loaded up all the clothing and jewelry I could carry. I slept fitfully that weekend in my parent’s two-bedroom co-op.
Dad rented a moving truck and Monday we drove up to my street to collect the rest of my belongings.
The traffic was slow for a Monday. I’d had a feeling that she might not let me in, or might have even changed the locks, and this time I trusted my gut.
When we got up to the floor, Angelique was taking her usual smoke break in the hall, with the door wide open. The minute she saw us she ran to the door to close it.
My dad stuck his foot in the doorframe to prevent her from shutting it, but she kept pushing, trying to get his foot out of the way.
They struggled like that until my dad managed to thrust open the door. Angelique backed away and started to cry as we entered. “Why, why are you doing this to me?” she asked him.
“Angelique, you have been behaving badly, drinking and stealing from my daughter,” my dad said.
As he moved the clothing out, I kept glancing at the huge, antique decorative knife on the table, wondering if she would be crazy enough, or intoxicated enough to make a grab for it.
My intuition said she would, so I kept my body right between her and the knife and stayed that way the entire time.
She turned her attention back to my father.
“Daddy,” she plaintively mewled, fueled by the drink she was consuming rapidly. “Talk to me.” My dad ignored her.
As I was leaving, she spoke to me for the first time that day.
“Why are you being like this?” she said. “I thought you were so sweet.”
As I left the building, I told the doorman, “I’m moving out. She’s crazy.” The doorman looked compassionately at me and said, “I’m not surprised. You were her 10th roommate this year, and most of them weren’t from the United States.
By the way,” he said, ” she changed the locks last Friday.”
As I exited the building safe once again in the bosom of my family, I realized that this time my parents and the home life I couldn’t wait to escape was my salvation.
And I learned to never look an apartment gift horse in the mouth. If it’s too good to be true, it is.”
6. Her Mental Health Wasn't Being Managed Properly
Something needs to be done for this poor girl.
“My girl and I were planning to move from an apartment into a house. We would have more space for ourselves and a backyard for the dog.
Her friend (we will call her Betsy) also needed a place to move to. I always found her to be kind of annoying and self-centered. I didn’t really enjoy talking to her. But recently, I had gotten intoxicated and had a pretty good conversation with her, and I figured she wasn’t too bad.
Fast forward, things went well enough. She was quiet and mostly stayed in her room.
She rarely had people over and was out and about with work and school. Normal roommate vibes.
I saw her feeding my dog scraps one day and asked her not to do that since it teaches the dog bad manners, and there are certain things they can’t safely eat that some people may not be aware of. She went quiet and didn’t really say anything.
I had to say it again in a serious tone, like seriously, please don’t feed my dog. She agreed not to.
Cut forward to some future point. It’s all blurry, but I’ll hit the key moments here. My dog started pooping b***d and acting like they were sick. One morning, we woke up, and the entire living room floor was COVERED in b***d.
It looked like a murder scene. My dog was pouring b***d from her butt like a spigot.
Please try to imagine how freaked out this made us.
We took the dog to the vet, and after several tests and an $800 bill, they basically said, “I don’t know” and suggested we feed her some special kind of food.
The dog would get better for weeks and then suddenly she’d be pooping b***d again.
It really worried us. We chalked it up to possible anxiety issues. Now I know better.
One day we woke up, and the thermostat was set as high as possible, somewhere in the 80s.
The house was extremely hot.
Later we asked Betsy about it, and she played stupid, saying she didn’t even know how to work the thermostat and had never touched it.
Weeks went on.
Who knows what kind of bizarre things she was doing that I didn’t even notice. She seemed to enjoy doing strange things to inconvenience us and then pretend to be naive and normal like nothing happened.
Eventually, she got really into the self-help book The Secret.
Now, I’m not going to slam on this book, but it’s had its fair share of criticism from materialists and spiritual people alike.
The book teaches some metaphysical ideas that you can make changes in your external reality using your mind. She became so obsessed with this book and began seeking out groups and seminars with like-minded people who were into the same subject.
She would come into the living room and emphatically rant about how she is communicating with angels.
She would show us screenshots on her phone at various times in the day that she noticed the numbers were the same, like 3:33, 2:22, 1:11, etc. She had dozens of pictures like this.
She acted as if this were proof that supernatural beings were reaching out to her.
She started seeing a guy from an app. He was in school and seemed to be a well-rounded guy. She’d go to his place or occasionally have him over.
One day, she just didn’t come home. The next day came and went, no Betsy. The next day came and went.
We theorized that she’s staying with her man, or (and I stressed this as a strong possibility) she’s locked up. Her behavior had been becoming more and more erratic, and I had begun to suspect mental illness.
My partner called around and eventually figured out that she had been committed to a psychiatric hospital.
She had been downtown and flagged down a police officer.
She told him about how a homeless man was stalking her and doing voodoo on her.
The officer had the good sense to place her in custody.
We picked her up a couple of weeks later from the hospital. She had been prescribed medication. She didn’t know how much detail I knew and pretended that she was arrested for something else entirely.
I enjoyed several days of “I told you so” to my partner who had been pretty oblivious to her old friend’s departure from consensus reality.
She went on, allegedly taking her medicine, going to work, and school. She got wrapped up in some new-age Christian get-rich-quick scheme that never panned out. The dog continued to have intermittent issues. Occasionally, the thermostat would do weird things, and we thought it was possessed or was malfunctioning. She was pretty talented at lying to our faces.
At one point, my girl confronted her about lying, and she said she developed a habit of lying as a child to get out of trouble.
I even think that was a lie. She’s just a compulsive liar who gets a kick out of it.
There were several blurry, unsober episodes where I became angry at her and shouted at her. I was becoming really paranoid, stressed out, and anxious. I was very wary of her. My partner wanted to act like Betsy was doing her best and just got dealt a bad hand.
I felt that she was more sinister than that.
I did not trust her at all, and I found her extremely difficult to get along with.
I began completely ignoring her. When she asked if she could watch TV with me, I told her no thanks; I don’t like you. She became more withdrawn and spent most of her time in her room.
Halloween night, my partner and I are hanging out with a friend and drinking at our house.
Betsy says she was invited to a party by a coworker.
She invites us to go. We are bored, so we get excited and put on costumes. We go to this party. Everything seems fine. Normal Halloween party. Betsy approaches the host of the party and says, “Hey, what’s up, Robert from work.”
Robert says, “Yeah, from work, wink wink. Like I didn’t meet you on that popular mobile thing, and you asked me to lie and say you were my coworker to trick your roommates.”
Betsy was completely still. She was in shock that someone had so bluntly foiled her scheme.
She walked out of the house and took a rideshare home.
Myself, my partner, and my friend all stayed at the party for another hour, drinking and chatting with the host. He said, “Lying hurts people every day.” I was so taken aback and rapt with admiration for what he had done.
Truly, you should have been there to see it. It was incredible.
We came home, unlocked the door to let Betsy in (she had been waiting in the yard, locked out) she went to her room and we didn’t speak of it.
For me, it was just more of the same. Nothing surprised me with her at this point.
Weeks go by. She has become more and more obsessed with this other guy she had been seeing.
She thinks they’re going to get married and have kids. When she was locked up the first time, we went through her room and found a binder full of paper that had “X name and I are going to get married and have kids,” printed on it hundreds of times.
And just a note, we went through her room to make sure she didn’t have anything dangerous like poison or weapons.
It was at that point that my partner began to listen to me a little bit and consider that she was a danger to herself or others.
He actually had pumped the brakes on their relationship. He seemed to want out completely, but she could not let go.
Anyway, she had becomes so obsessed with this guy.
At like 10 PM one night, she came out of her room and said, “So and so needs my help.
He murdered someone and he’s hiding from the cops. I need to let him know that I can help him.”
“How do you know he murdered someone?”
“I googled it. I found it on Google.”
“If you could Google it, why couldn’t the cops? How have they not found him yet?”
She didn’t really have a response to that totally sound questioning.
“I need to go tell him I can help him.”
“What if he thinks you’re a scary stalker, and he calls the cops on you?”
“He won’t call the cops on me. He’s running from the cops.”
So, despite my best effort to talk sense into her, she left the house. She did not return that night or the next night. Turns out, this was round 2 of her lock up.
We later found out she went to his house and knocked on the door.
He did not let her in. She explained that he murdered someone and is running from cops and needs her help. He said no, that didn’t happen, and in fact, you are the one who needs help.
She refused to leave. He called the police. The police put her back in the psychiatric hospital.
He got a restraining order on her.
When she came out, it was more of the same.
She might have actually started taken her medicine this time.
I got a chance to check the bottles once. She was prescribed medicine that is given to bipolar and schizophrenic patients.
More of the same. She stayed in her room. She annoyed me any time she came out or spoke. I was still extremely paranoid and uncomfortable in my home. My dog continued to have health problems.
I was reaching a breaking point. I finally convinced my partner to ask her to leave. She asked her to leave.
Betsy agreed to leave. I couldn’t believe how easy it was. She was going to go back to stay with her mother.
I think I had successfully made the atmosphere in the home so uncomfortable for her that she did not require any convincing.
She was ready to go.
She moved out shortly after. My good shoes smelled like pee for months after she left. I suspect she put pee in them.
Our dog ceased having stomach issues as soon as she left.
She’s had perfectly healthy bowel movements and has been very happy. She definitely doesn’t have anxiety and is very chill. I think it’s obvious now that she was being poisoned.
Also, the thermostat hasn’t done any more weird stuff.
Betsy sent a text to my partner a month or two after moving out. It read “Is your dog still pooping b***d?”
….
No, she’s not.
My household has had a calm, peaceful, loving energy since then. I was a bit traumatized by the experience but I’m better now.
The dog is doing fantastic. My GF no longer speaks to Betsy.
I think that one day she may end up in jail for a serious crime.”
5. Best Friend Or Not, I'm Not Responsible For Helping You Get Your Life Together
“I moved in with my best friend, and things have not been going well. We moved in together about 7 months ago, me, my best friend since middle school, and her long-term partner.
It started out fine, for about a month, then she just stopped talking to me, ignored whatever I said. When I asked her man what happened, he said he doesn’t know, but she was mad that I cleaned out the litter boxes (we have 5 cats – 2 mine, 3 theirs) and put new litter in them, I guess? I don’t know.
Anyway, we never talked about it, despite my many attempts.
One day, she just acted normal, was talking to me normally, so I thought nothing of it and moved on.
I’ll backtrack a little. We had been talking about moving in together for over 3 years. I had moved far away (7 years) from our hometown for college. About a year before our move-in, she decided that, yeah, she wants to move and get away from the place.
They relied on me to find a place, which was no problem since I was the one already up here. I got a place 3 months before move-in. They then told me that they won’t have enough money and asked if I could help them with the deposit and first month’s rent. I was hesitant but agreed. They asked me to come down with my truck and trailer to help them move up here, and I agreed.
Her man asked me if he could borrow a vehicle to drive for the next month while his car got fixed since I had my brothers, which I was helping him try to sell. I agreed.
With all of that, they ended up owing me well over 3 grand. I would remind them at least once a month that they owed me this money and I was always met with glares, eye rolls, and the excuse that they didn’t have enough, not even enough to slowly start paying me off.
Then the next day they would go out and buy $100+ worth of cat stuff or computer parts or whatever stupid stuff. The month of borrowing my vehicle was extended without asking. When brought up, the partner would say he doesn’t have a car yet and doesn’t know when his would get fixed. I ended up having to buy my brother’s car (at a discount, but still, I didn’t want the car).
I told him he could borrow my truck as long as he took care of it: oil changes, check transmission, etc. Last week, after he couldn’t get my truck started, I checked on my truck, and it turns out, he hasn’t been putting much fuel in, running it on nearly empty, and the fuel lines froze. The oil life is also 800+ miles past due to change.
I told him of this and he shrugged it off.
I also ended up taking care of all the bills and hounding them for money to pay me back. Same responses. They would let me pay and pay me back whenever they had money left over from buying whatever they wanted. When I did get my money back, it was ALWAYS thrown at me. Like I was the bad guy for paying for bills and asking them to pay me back.
I gave them so many breaks because I felt bad, felt like they couldn’t afford it. But they both had jobs before they moved up here. The BFF has a higher-paying job than me too. But still being the doormat I was, I let them get by with it.
Because I assumed they had money troubles, I got the partner a second job, doing some cleaning where I work.
It started out ok for 3 days. But now, he has made my job a living nightmare. He does everything like trash, tries to cut corners all the time, and has made me have to work twice as hard doing my job and cleaning up after his job. It makes me feel terrible that I gave such a good recommendation to my bosses for him. He was hired over a more qualified person who had experience because of my recommendation.
When I mention that he needs to do better, he tells me that I am being unfair to him. He sprouts lies left and right to cover his awful work and that I should be nicer since he has anxiety (newsflash! we all pretty much have anxiety). I have given up on trying to get him to do his job correctly that I know he thinks he’s getting away with cutting corners.
I have since given my boss a review of him and also retracted my recommendation. They are going to act on this by the end of the year.
They then began to shut me out of their life. They treat me like their live-in maid, who is only a guest. I cook and offer them food. They order food and never offer me any or if I’d like to get food with them.
I clean up after them constantly. Our apartment is only livable because I can’t stand letting a mess go for that long. I tried only cleaning up my messes. And let’s not forget that I take care of the bills. So you could say I was the mother of these two but had no authority.
The straw that lays on the already broken-backed camel happened last night.
They smoke, which I told them I don’t want to be done in our apartment. They agreed since it is against our lease. But they did anyway, and to cover it up, they doused our apartment in air freshener, thinking I wouldn’t notice. Any air freshener smell will give me migraines, which it did. I couldn’t get to sleep until 2 am, 2 hours before I needed to wake up for work.
I also had a final this morning. I went to bed at a reasonable time but was up for 6 hours fighting that migraine. So I had to go to my manual labor job and take a very important final on 2 hours of sleep.
I want to be done. I want to move out. I want my name taken off the lease and I don’t see a point in salvaging this friendship.”
4. They Make ME Out To Be The Bad Roommate Over The Simplest Of Things
No, sweetie. YOU are the bad roommate.
“I’m always the one to unload the dishwasher, which is bad because it makes noise, and I unload it during the day. This is super inconsiderate because my roommate stays up all night yelling about video games in the living room, so she needs her beauty sleep during daylight hours.
I’m a bad roommate because I do 100% of the cleaning, which is bad because sweeping all of my roommate’s hair off the floor irritates her dust allergy.
Apparently, people with dust allergies shouldn’t clean more often to prevent allergens; they should actually just avoid disturbing the layers of dust and hair at all costs.
I’m a bad roommate because I vacuum the carpet in my room at least weekly (during daylight hours, again, because I’m the worst) to prevent my roommate’s carpet beetle infestation from spreading to my room. Another fun fact about dust allergies is that you don’t even have to vacuum for YEARS because you don’t want to disturb those precious layers.
I’m a bad roommate for asking my roommate not to be loud past 1 am. See, this is bad because I unload the dishwasher during the day and also vacuum, so I’m super hypocritical for wanting to sleep during the nighttime. I would be a better roommate if I also just dropped out of college and quit my job so that I could stay up all night too.
I’m a bad roommate for asking her not to leave dishes in the sink for days on end when we have a functional dishwasher. I would be a better roommate if I just allowed the roach infestation to thrive and flourish. I’m a bad roommate for asking her not to spill food and oil everywhere and then leave it there. Hey, if I slip in the oil left coating the entire kitchen floor, it’s actually my fault for not seeing it!
I’m a bad roommate for asking my roommate to take out the trash when she singlehandedly filled it up only hours after I replaced the bag. I should have known the bags just disappear on their own when they’re full, so asking her to take it out was definitely a jerk move.
I’m a bad roommate for getting upset with the ~monthly fires my roommate starts in the kitchen and then being the one to scrub the soot and smoke off the walls.
This is bad because my roommate doesn’t like the way the cleaning product smells, even though that smell only lasts about an hour compared to the week-long stench of burnt meat. Apparently, telling her to be careful was actually me forbidding her from cooking at all and had nothing to do with not wanting the building to burn down.
I’m a bad roommate for not being comfortable with my roommate entering the bathroom while I’m showering because I should know better than to ever shower when I live with someone whose bladder is the size of a grape.
Again, I’m a huge prude for this, and locking the door when I shower to feel safe actually makes me a jerk.
Sigh. I’m so freaking tired, y’all. I really hope I don’t have to explain that this is sarcasm. I’m moving out Saturday, and the next two days might just be the longest days of my life. Hopefully doing literally all of the move-out checklist cleaning and repairs will pass the time more quickly.”
3. She Had Crazy Emotional Problems
“My freshman year… My first roommate was extremely homesick and moved out. So, this girl down the hall (let’s call her Sarah) told me she was having problems with her roommate and that she was looking for somewhere else to move. So I said okay.
First, the girl had some nasty feet. The stench was overwhelming. The whole room smelled like sweat and old cheese.
I gently asked her if there was something that could be done, like foot powder or baking soda to lessen the stench. She decided to spray them with Glade AirEffects, which did nothing.
I didn’t want to bunk our beds, but she begged me to, saying that we’d have so much more room. I agreed on the condition that we switch off every two months.
Two months later, she tells me that she ‘gets vertigo’ and can’t sleep on the top bunk.
She watched TV 24-7. She had brought her own television and was very determined on using it all the time. One time, I was studying on my bed for an upcoming exam and asked her if she could turn it down or off, just for the next hour or two.
She looked at me, rolled her eyes, and said, “It IS my TV, so I’ll do what I want with it, thanks.”
One day, I came back to find the room completely rearranged. She told me that she did it because she felt like it and didn’t think I would mind. She wound up dumping most of my drawer and desk stuff on the floor.
She was also extremely emotional and clingy. One time, I was coming back from class late and decided to go straight to the dining hall instead of dropping my stuff off up in my room. After meeting up with my friends and having dinner, I returned to the room. She greeted me sullenly. “WHY didn’t you text me to have dinner? You ALWAYS text me to have dinner.” This was bizarre because not only did we not usually eat together, but I had never texted her for dinner before.
I found out she was so desperate that she refused to eat in the dining hall unless she was absolutely sure she would go with someone (she didn’t want to eat alone). Didn’t stop her from being a good 80 lbs overweight, though.
After several months of putting up with her mouth-breathing, I broke the news that she and I would not be rooming together the next year.
She threw a fit but came to terms with it (or so I thought). One night, a friend dropped by my room to tell me she was going room hunting for next semester and wanted to know if I’d come with her as we had previously discussed. I said yes. I noticed Sarah glaring at me. She gave several dramatic, angry sighs. I didn’t know what her problem was, so I asked, “What’s up,” to which she claimed nothing was wrong.
Then she said, “I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS.” I was like, What in the heck. She said that a REAL friend would tell her about my plans for the evening and wouldn’t keep ‘secrets.’ I told her that sounded crazy, and she burst into tears and ran out of the room.
She also used my things without permission, exploded the air mattress with her fat butt, and made melodramatic statements about how her life was ‘so unfair.’
I couldn’t take this up any higher; her father was the campus director for non-academic affairs. I really didn’t want him making my life miserable.”
2. He Straight Up Stole From Me And Claimed I Stole From Him
“I was a junior in college, living with a scuba roommate. (She was a scuba instructor in the offseason.) The other two girls who were supposed to live with us never showed up, so we had a beautiful semester living in a 2 bedroom townhouse (meant for 4 people).
We got along very well.
The second semester starts, and we get a new roomie, Dee. So, Dee is seeing (whom Scuba and I call Mr. Burns. He did NOT attend the college, nor any college.). This guy is the biggest jerk that I have ever met. He was openly seeing 4 girls. He hid nothing from any of the girls. He had no job, no car, no life.
Dee gave him a place to stay and the use of her car and the other girls gave him money if he needed.
It’s about 2 weeks in, and Dee calls for a meeting. Apparently, Scuba and I were making Mr. Burns uncomfortable with our tension, and he requested that we either “got over him or hooked up with him.” In truth, he was disgusting.
We were both highly repulsed by him and told her as such. (Scuba was seeing a lovely boy to whom she was engaged. I was single, but standards are still standards.)
Fast forward to the end of the semester, I have my housing deposit for next year ready (cash in my room in my desk drawer with the paperwork). It comes up missing (all except $100, which is the downfall of Mr. Burns).
I call campus security. They come and investigate and take the $100 bill back for fingerprints. (It’s BRAND new; this is the best part.) They fingerprint me as well. Turns out, only 3 sets of prints were on the bill… Mine, the teller’s, and his. The security gets his info and informs me that the moment I see him, call security from a safe place and get out.
He had some prior arrests for violence.
I do as I’m told. They pick him up and take him in. He confesses almost immediately. (The officer was laughing his butt off when he told me.) Then Mr. Burns turns around and says that I stole a BUNCH of Dee’s CDs. I tell the officer that her music sucks and definitely did NOT take them.
Later, he confesses to stealing and selling them at a pawn shop. He’s now banned from the college, and if I see him around, I am to call campus security.
I did NOT get my money back, so I was out $400, which was a lot for me at the time.
Dee continues living with me but now hates me and blames me because Mr. Burns dumped her.
(He still calls her to ask for money and other stuff, which she gladly gives him.)
She makes my life awful for the next month until her lease is up, all thanks to Burns. (He borderline stalked me at this point and even went into my workplace, followed me around off-campus… Just a wonderful person.)
It’s now summer, and I’m on Yahoo messenger (no photo, just, “Hey, I go to X college, looking for people that like to go to music shows.”).
He messages me. He DOES have a photo. I give him my “photo” eventually (totally not me). I string him along, nervous ’cause “I’ve never done this before.” All he wants is a dirty hook-up.
Eventually, I agree, under ONE condition… That it can happen late (around 1 AM and that he show up in boxers and I’d take care of him).
I give him my address… which happened to be the address of the 4 guys who are on the lacrosse team.
He shows up, as promised. They did NOT take it kindly. He went back to his car. Lo and behold, security is there. I watch as he’s carted away in his underoos for violating his terms.”
1. Get Your Own Food, Would You?
“A bit of back story. I’m a twenty-four-year-old female and she’s twenty-three. We’ll call her Estelle because that was her name, and screw her.
We lived together for two years. I wouldn’t say we were friends really, but we had a few laughs, and she was ok.
Anyway, Estelle found a new house she wanted to move into.
It was closer to the Melbourne CBD than our flat. (Our flat is about 7.5 miles away.) She was entirely entitled to leave, and I didn’t mind really.
I’d just get a new roomie.
So, a few weeks later, Estelle was packed and good to go. On this particular day, she was an hour away from leaving to go to her new house or so she said.
We said our relatively awkward but sweet goodbyes, and then I left to go to the shops.
I assumed by the time I got back she’d be gone. I spent more than an hour getting heaps of stuff now that my flat was just mine. I also got a TON of food.
Anyway, I got back, and Estelle was still there. I didn’t care; although, it was awkward because we’d said goodbye, and I thought she’d be gone.
I unpacked all the food and put it away and then took a shower.
She told me when I got out, she’d be gone.
When I got out Estelle was, indeed, gone. I went to go make a hot drink and realized the tea bags were out. After I realized I’d bought new ones, I went hunting them down. All the cupboards were completely empty though.
Oh my God. That witch took all the food that I bought with my money. And I mean all my food, not just the new stuff. All of it.
I knew Estelle’s new house had to be on our computer’s history; that was where she found it.
After rummaging through it for close to fifteen minutes, I found the address to her new house.
I got dressed and headed off to it.
When I arrived, her car was there. Screw it. I’d wait it out. I hid behind a tree, and I knew it was a huge risk; she could easily not leave all night.
And after an hour, I knew that would be the case. I sadly began to crawl away from my hiding place, but then I heard something.
The shower was on! Estelle was having a shower! I had been crouching under the bathroom window, so I could hear it.
When I was certain she wasn’t getting out or whatever, I tried the front door. It was unlocked, and I was thrilled.
The house was a lot nicer than my flat. I was jealous and also mad because she stole my food, and who steals food?
I was wearing a skirt, and I took off my underwear.
I proceeded to run around the house with them in my hand trying to find somewhere to pee. It was the only form of revenge I could think of, okay?
So, I elected for her bedroom. Basically, nothing was unpacked, but the carpet was a beautiful, creamy white color. I peed all over it while laughing shamelessly to myself.
I hadn’t peed in forever, so I literally was able to then walk around, my underwear in hand, urinating all over the carpet.
It felt good.
I finished, put my underwear back on, stole my teabags back, and drove home.
Screw Estelle. I spent like two hundred dollars on all that food.”
