I’ve had my share of doozies.
Like the one who left 2 days before the 2nd month of rent was due without notice, and who hadn’t paid the first as it turns out, plus she’d borrowed my car and got a parking ticket and told me all about her fecal impaction stories (which, little did she know, makes me burst into song about psyllium). She was tame.
My other fun one announced, right after he handed me his rent and I’d written out a receipt, that he was a high-ranking druid priest who was on the run from his baby mama (technically not his kid, because this child was black and he and the ex were white, but he had been 18 and wtf, just put his name on the birth certificate) and also his wages were being garnished to pay for said kid.
My favorite was the bulimic white-bread Oregonian from McMinneville who was gone all day, ate beans and tomatoes for dinner, and after we’d all go to bed she’d hollow out my peanut butter so there was a thin slip on the walls so that I’d think it was still full.
I also apparently lived with a girl who was one of 17 youths pulled from a cult down in Melbourne, Australia. I just found that out when I googled her the other day after talking to my coworker about “crazy college roommates”. I’d always felt like this girl was a bit repellent (and felt guilty for thinking that way), but also felt very deeply sorry for her for some unknown reason. She never, to my knowledge, disclosed her past. And I slept inches away from her sad little story for 5 months.
That said, I’ve had some great roommies.