I’ve had about a dozen roommates, and have been exceedingly lucky with them. I’ve only had 2 bad ones. One was a 19-year old kid who worked a late shift and liked to party a lot since this was the first time he was out of the house. It was his place, so I just left. I actually liked the guy – he was really a good guy and with a great heart, but just couldn’t get enough sleep for my 9-5er.
The other one was a bear. I lived in a great place out in the boonies with a 360 degree view and a swimming pool. For a while, it was so ideal that I called it “Little Eden,” and couldn’t get enough of the place. I had a great roommate who was a super-cute and very cool 24-year old girl who was comfortable enough around me to go without clothes most of the time when the weather allowed. No problem by me…
However, we had one other room to rent. The landlord got desperate and tossed the first person in that could pay rent regularly. The new guy was a raging a-hole with the attitude and demeanor of a drill sergeant. Even though I’m very easy going, get along with everyone, and can’t think of anyone else in the whole world that I dislike, I hated him.
The first bad thing was that my roommate covered up. No more nakedness. Ug… Unfortunate, but expected around some new guy. Then, he started to fall for the 24-year old, even though he was in his early 50s and she had a boyfriend. I think that is why he had it out for me, even though I didn’t have it out for him, nor did I ever even think of dating the 24-year old.
He was OCD and had a violent streak that came out every now and then. One incident was when he thought I left out some towels to dry by the pool. It didn’t matter or make him stop yelling at me for leaving a mess after he learned that it was actually the 24-year old girl’s towels and not mine – he had it out for me and he couldn’t be stopped.
I couldn’t reason with him ever. I walked out of arguments almost daily. The straw that broke the camels back: less then a thimbleful of salsa in the sink that called a “mess.” That was it – nothing else. I had no problems cleaning up my “mess,” but I was still eating and had my quesadilla still in my hand as he screamed at me.
I stayed until my month’s rent was up, then I left. Just thinking of that jerk still gives me a pit in my stomach.
I ran into him randomly several months after I left. He said he moved out because the 24 year old made too much noise while having sex with her boyfriend. Then he said something like “I didn’t like how it turned out between the two of us, but you always left out a mess and you left your shit out on the porch all the time…” He kept rattling off a few other complaints to me. It was that moment that any last, tiny, lingering, little doubts that I had about the possibility of him being a sane human evaporated. I turned and walked away from him mid-sentence. Asshole.