I can’t believe it’s almost February and I’m only on Day 08. What a slacker! Though the fact that I’ve posted more in the past two months than I did in all of 2012 and 2013 ought to count for something. Onto the post at hand…
Unfortunately, being the sensitive soul that I am, I have quite a few people who fall into this category. But there is one person in particular who treated me like shit and made my life hell. I’m grateful that she was only in my life for a relatively short period of time, but it was an extremely stressful time. Almost everyone who knows me has heard about my roommate from hell (RFH). I apologize in advance for what will most definitely be a rambling and crazy post.
The year was 2001. The town was Brighton, MA. I had just graduated from college and was super stoked to have a full-time job and be moving into my first post-college apartment with two roommates. One of the girls was the master tenant; she’d been there for a while. She was also older and working toward her PhD in physical therapy. I don’t remember how I found the place, but a good college friend of mine hooked us up with a mutual friend from school for the third bedroom. At first, we all got along. We shopped for common area stuff, hung out a lot in the apartment, and generally had a good time. After a while, RFH’s behavior started to grate on me. She never cleaned up after herself, and she was loud and inconsiderate. She also tended to be a bully, forcing us other two girls to accommodate her needs. I was starting to realize that, on top of it all, she was somewhat of a phony. I despise phonies.
To make matters worse, we had a bit of a car/parking situation. Our parking setup was off-street tandem, and since she didn’t know how to drive a standard, I always had to park in front of her. That meant shuffling cars myself when she wasn’t home. She didn’t allow me to take the spare car keys, so any time I needed to come or go and she wasn’t there to move her car (or was too lazy to come out and do it herself — yes, this happened), I had to leave my car idling outside, run in to get her spare keys, then run back out to shuffle the cars. At first it was no big deal, because I rarely drove. But once I started dating a guy who lived an hour away, I was driving more frequently and shuffling cars a lot more. When I asked her if she’d mind me holding onto her spare keys so I didn’t have to run in and out of the apartment, she flat-out refused “just in case a friend of hers may need to borrow the car.” (Which never happened.)
One specific incident burned itself into my brain. It was a rainy Monday of a long weekend, and I was returning from a movie and the grocery store with a car full of groceries. Upon getting home, there was a car parked in my spot. Due to the weather, I opted to pull up alongside the house where I’m technically not supposed to park (you need a permit to park on those streets, and I didn’t have one due to my car being registered in another town). When I got inside, RFH was there with her parents. Her parents were the ones blocking my space. After I unloaded my stuff and needed to park, I asked RFH if her parents could possibly move their car so I could get into the driveway. She essentially flipped out and refused. They did eventually leave, and I was lucky to not have gotten any sort of citation.
Time went on, and things got to the point where both the third older roommate and me weren’t talking to RFH unless we had to. But since older roommate was gone a lot between work, school, and her boyfriend, I got the brunt of RFH’s attitude. And it wasn’t just sloppiness, but also personal attacks. By now, I was mostly staying in my room or with my boyfriend. I consistently had stomach issues, because I’m not good at confrontation, and my emotions manifest them in my stomach.
When it finally came time to renew the lease, RFH told me: “Come August, you’d better find a new place.” Little did she know that older roommate and I already planned to ask RFH to leave. So at the time, I just smiled and walked away, knowing older roommate, as master tenant, would be the one to break the news.
*******
On moving day, RFH’s parents are once again on site. I had been staying at my boyfriends and had passive-aggressively taken her spare car keys, knowing she’d need them before leaving. I also knew I’d be getting home well before she left, but by now I was blinded by anger. When I get to the apartment, they’re about two-thirds of the way done, so I just walk into my room and shut the door. Not five minutes later, I hear a knock. I open the door to see her dad, who says something like: “We have been nothing but nice to you, and then you go and give it to us up the ass.” Gestures and all. I’m so shaken/angry/scared that I take her spare keys and chuck them into the hall, slam my door, and call my boyfriend to talk to him until they’re gone.
*******
Thankfully, that was the last I saw of RFH and her parents. Older roommate and I replaced RFH with a sweet Irish girl who might as well have been an angel compared to RFH.
There you have it. The first (and worst) in a series of roommate experiences that have convinced me living alone (unless it’s with a partner) is the way to go.
*Deep breaths*
Read the full list of truths here.
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