‘She stole my bed and started sleeping in it’: Roommate horror stories
‘Oh, I thought you were never coming back’
Did you survive your freshman year with a snorer? A slob? A future menace to society? Well that’s nothing compared to the hell these victims suffered.
I was concerned I would mostly receive general complaints such as “she left hair in the sink,” or “he left his boxers on the floor,” but alas, I was wrong. It seems there are far more sordid occurrences that go on behind the closed doors of NYU housing.
I became some sort of therapist to the affected masses: “Are you the girl writing about bad roommate experiences?” one girl cried, as she ran up to me in Starbucks, “because this is going to take a while.” So I adopted my designated role of roommate counsellor with grace and poise, and began to listen.
The tale of the alarm clock
The first was a tale centered around an alarm clock, but not just any alarm clock: this one played a traditional Chinese folk song on repeat.
“It used to continually ring from 6.30am-7.20am each morning on a loop, but she would never turn it off.”
According to our first victim, when she politely requested the alarm be silenced, she went ignored.
“The song still haunts me… I can sing it for you if you’d like?” she asked, and before I had the chance to hastily decline her generous offer, she had begun the tune with such ferocity I was forced to take a step back.
Each time this first offender was brought to trial (otherwise known as a discussion with her RA), she feigned unawareness of Alarm-Clock-Gate 2014 and blamed the language barrier for her lack of understanding the issue. Suspiciously, this language barrier only came into effect when her beloved alarm clock was involved.
The silent treatment
We now move on to victim #2 who endured a semester of the silent treatment. Our victim endured weeks of ignored hellos and questions that went unanswered, until the night of her birthday when she was aggressively asked to leave and spend the night in someone else’s room with no explanation.
When she returned the following morning, her desk and belongings had been moved up against the wall, and her bed had been adapted into a double in which her roommate currently slept. Upon waking, our second offender stated: “Oh, I thought you were never coming back.”
Our third victim spent the first five weeks of their freshman fall semester trying to locate a peculiar smell that would not dissipate. Eventually, he stumbled upon an unused drawer in the kitchen, and opened it to find a plastic bag left there by his roommate five weeks prior. What was inside the bag, you ask?
“It was my roommates vomit from Welcome Week.” Lovely. Vomit Boy also had regular, loud, rampant sex at all hours of the day and night, so perhaps some girls are into that…
The fresh wound
When asked the question, “Do you have any horrific roommate stories?” victim #4 simply responded “I lived with a sorority girl.”
When asked to expand on this, she paused and simply stated “I’m sorry I’m just not ready to talk about it yet…”
My condolences are with her and her family during this difficult time.
So to all of you silently brainstorming the various ways you could kill your roommate in his/her sleep, spare a thought for these innocent victims who endured assaults on their sight, smell, hearing and mental faculties — it gets better, guys. I promise.