Some people pine for “the good ol’ days”. When I catch myself pining for those days of youth, I remember all of the shitty roommates I had, and then I don’t pine so much. I might cringe, shudder or let out a sigh of relief, but I don’t miss having to have roommates.
Sweet Marissa over at https://rockandrollsupermom.wordpress.com/ inspired this post. She’s a badass, and she’s funny as hell. This list is in her honor.
Here’s the list of my worst roommates ever:
5). The Husband
My first roommate was my first live-in boyfriend. I was 18, and he was 21. He wore JNCOs (an absurdly wide legged pant popular in the late 90’s), and played guitar. He did not play well, but he did know two songs! Both songs were by the band Sublime, but he also loved the band Tool. He “decorated” our apartment with the following poster.
Appetizing right? I married this guy. Yep, I married him. I married him despite the fact that he’d left to purchase my engagement ring, and came back with a pawn-shop guitar instead. This, and so much more, will be in my yet-to-be finished book.
4). The girls who chased me around the apartment with a bible (literally)
I was living in sin (in their opinion). Since my “marriage” had dissolved, I’d only had one boyfriend. That relationship ended when he became abusive, and cracked my skull in to a mirror after a night of stalking me. I was 21 when the relationship dissolved, and did not date again until I was 24. At 24, I was newly in love, and spent every moment available with my new boyfriend. He brought an end to my celibacy after a long three months of dating + the 3 non-dating years. My devout roommates were not pleased with my fornication, and gave the term “bible thumper” a literal meaning, as they chased me around the apartment shouting bible verses at me. I moved out very shortly after that.
3). “There’s a Devil in the television”
I was so ready to move beyond the bible thumpers, that I took up the first room rental I could get. When I visited my prospective room, I was pleased. The house was cute and my rent would be cheap. Upon move-in, I realized that my ivory walls had been painted over with a “Barney The Dinosaur” purple. I didn’t like the color but I liked the price. My friends helped me unload my few items, and then left me to awkwardly acclimate to my new roommate. Within three minutes, she divulged that she didn’t watch t.v. because she didn’t want to let spirits in to her home. However, I was “allowed” to have a t.v. in my room. I guess t.v. spirits are well potty trained, and know not to take blasphemous shits outside their designated territories. I didn’t own a t.v. at the time, but I did read a lot of books. I wonder if those “evil” book spirits ever mingled with my former roomie.
2). ” I left my wallet behind”
This roommate crushed me. He was my “best friend”, and I was one of the first people he’d officially “come out” to. He played on my sympathies, and attempted to run right over me. He never had money for rent, and his parents had cut him off due to his life choices. I played along with his excuses, and forked over money for dinner when he claimed he’d “forgotten his wallet”. I spent so much time focusing on his “hardships” that I almost forgot he was a grown man who was capable of paying rent and bills.
The man who I’m with now, and whom I’ve been with since then, was new in my life. That meant that I slept at his place most nights, and was hardly ever at my own apartment. In my absence, my roommate “rescued” a dog. I was happy to oblige him because he was a vet tech, and I was sure he’d be able to provide a better life for the dog. I was proved wrong when I returned home after a few days away. Roomie wasn’t home, but the poor pooch was. As soon as I opened the door, I was nearly knocked out by the stench that was coming from the second floor. I found the pup, locked in his kennel with no food or water, and standing in filth. It was obvious that he’d been left alone for days. I was in a white-hot rage when I called my roommate. I was shaking and fighting back tears when he answered, and I gave him a piece of my mind, along with an ultimatum. He was to surrender the dog back to his vet’s hospital within 3 days. He cried profusely and promised me he would make things right. I should have checked in sooner but I took him at his word. Three more days passed before I went to my apartment again. This time, I found the dog in the same predicament, but now he was emaciated. Another friend of mine sprung in to action, and arrived at my apartment to truly rescue the dog. Just as we were loading the dog in to his car, roomie arrived, and actually protested the dog being taken from him. When he learned that he’d already been reported for animal abuse, he slumped in to his green Ford Focus and drove away. I never saw him again, but I did have to fork over his half of the rent + the cash to get me out of my lease.
1). The girl with the burnt spoons
After the dog fiasco, I moved in with Derek. Derek had a roommate at the time. I liked her sense of style, and the fact that she was rarely home. When she was home, something was definitely off. Derek was at work when a good friend of mine came over for a visit. It was a warm summer night, and we were soaking it in while sipping some wine on the front porch. The roommate returned from a visit to upstate NY, and was invited to join us. We would ask her questions like “how was your trip?”, and she would make it through half a response before nodding off. It was bizarre, but we just figured she was weary from her travels. Little did we know, the girl was “traveling”. A few days later, close to $400 went missing from my wallet. The roommate wasn’t home after the discovery, but enough puzzle pieces were adding up, to warrant a search of her room. Invasion of privacy? Probably. Regrets? No. My money wasn’t found when we searched her room, but burnt spoons, and the evidence of heroin were.
The locks were changed that day, and she was evicted.
*Positive Notes: The dog did find a loving home. The heroin addict was forced in to recovery by her parents, and has been clean for years. I never got my money back but I’m okay with that. Before my mother had her children, she was a heroin addict. Her dealer/boyfriend made the decision to dump her lifeless body at the doorway of the E.R. as opposed to a ditch. She recalled hearing this debate when her “friends” thought she was dead. No one who met my mother would have ever guessed she was a former junkie. I knew her as radiant and loving. She loved gardening, and had a knack for creating beauty from the dirt. The beauty she created would be her legacy. She taught me to believe that everyone deserves a second chance.
This is by far, the longest post I’ve ever written. Thanks for sticking with me til the end. If you read it the whole way through, please write “The End” in the comments.