My Worst Roommate Story

Everyone has one. Or, knows someone who has had one. No one ever admits to being one...

So, in 2010 I decided to move in with one of my best friends. I was working at VT at the time, and she also worked there. We were good friends, and I thought it was an awesome idea. We signed a lease and got an apartment together, and thus began the worst year of my life.

yeah, that bad.

The first day I caught her eating my food. Her boyfriend also stayed over that first day. Guess who she fed my food to.

She also never washed anything.

But I was willing to try to work with her. I mean, I'm not an angel all the time, and I'm sure I was hard to deal with and stuff. Everyone has problems, right? This was okay. We could still be friends. Just don't eat my food. Why are you eating my food? So, we talked, and I tried to communicate to her that consuming my food was the worst possible thing she could ever do--and if she used my dishes, I only wanted her to wash them. Like, is that too much to ask?

But that's not the worst story. Oh, no, the worst part is when I caught her doing...uh, well, you can guess--on my couch. Drunk. On my couch. Doing. THAT. On my couch. Women, don't you have your own room? Doesn't he have his own apartment?! Don't you know I am home? This happened more then one time. Like, three times total, that I knew about. What ever happened to go to your own room--to make the bang bang times, for the love of all things sanitary and appropriate? Seriously!

Uh, your a bad roommate.

Suffice to say that was the last straw. I kinda quit trying to communicate with her after this point.

But then--no, then--she somehow acquired two boyfriends (yes, you heard that right, two) So, one would stay over on the weekdays and another on the weekends. It was like playing musical chairs. Except with men. Whose names I could never keep straight. They didn't know about each other (hah) and, yes, if you have to ask, they did eventually find out.

Oh, you want to know what happened? Well, one left her. And the other apparently didn't care, so he stuck around. I happened to be working during the blow out, thankfully. Also, I didn't really want to hear about her sob story at this point.

Then she accused me of telling on her. Like, really? No, I didn't tell sleeping partner A about sleeping partner B. I can't even remember their names, much less who is who. I'm over here, juggling my full time job and my own social life, thank you very much. I don't know how they found out, maybe they read your e-mail? Or checked your phone? Or maybe one of them saw you out with the other? It's not like you were really discrete. So not my problem.

I'm so glad I'm married, and don't have to juggle female roommates anymore. Ya'know?

I do feel kinda bad about totally blowing up on her in the end, and sometimes I wonder what happened to her. Sometimes I pray for her. But then I remember her craziness and suddenly I don't feel that bad anymore...

Did you ever have any terrible roommate stories? I doubt you can top this....