Friends, I believe it is high time I told the story of the roommate that nobody wanted. Beware, however, there are details in this story that will confuse, confound, and quite possibly disgust the more sensitive readers among you. Do not be ashamed if you do feel queasy, nauseous, or like you have to take a shower immediately. It is only natural.

Our story begins with my first day of college. I was bright-eyed, and still partially alive inside. I had been speaking with my two roommates for a large part of the summer and knew them only by name. One of them was a quiet kid from Ohio who danced and sang and could draw stunning pieces with any medium that he was given. On top of that, he was a very attractive person. Needless to say, I had no qualms with his company. We unfortunately never became very good friends, but he was comfortable and easy to live with.

My other roommate was a kid from South Carolina. He was a gamer, a skinny thing with long shaggy hair and a slow lumber for a walk. He was the messier of the three of us, but the state of the room was never unbearable. He seemed like a good guy, simply shy or maybe apathetic, but seemingly alright.

In the interest of anonymity, I will be referring to my roommates by their respective states of origin; Ohio for the hot, artsy, quiet guy, and Carolina for the carefree gamer dude.

The first semester went over pretty well. None of us spoke much, but we all lived in quiet cohabitation and mostly focused on schoolwork. The second semester, however, things started to go downhill… if downhill was a cliff… and there were many sharp rocks at the bottom…

I remember the first time I laid eyes on her. She looked like a giant toddler. She had unkempt hair stretched back into pigtails, always walked around with her mouth open, and had droopy eyes. She was like a cartoon two-year-old with an overworked pituitary gland – and she was Carolina’s new girlfriend. I honestly didn’t think much of her initially past the first impression, but it wasn’t long before I was considering a room change. Like all relationships, they started out slow. I know this because restraining the full extent of their affection was never in their repertoire of skills. They started out with an occasional peck on the cheek or a hug or kiss here and there. Soon, however, they would exchange prolonged passionate kisses. It was something out of a theater show; very large, and very out there so that even the audience members in the back could understand the passion. The only difference was that they used much more tongue than any stage kiss I’ve ever seen. I thought at that point that it couldn’t get any worse, but boy was I wrong.

They continued this ritual for the next month or so, growing ever more confident as time went on. One fateful day, Ohio and I received a text from Carolina that the new girlfriend needed to spend the night somewhere as she had just had a big fight with her roommates. Not wishing to be rude, we both said yes for the one night. One night soon turned into one week, and then two. Soon she was sleeping over every night, and it was a fact of life. She began leeching off of us and stocking our fridge with her leftovers. Now, normally I’d have no problem with something like this, as long as she was also willing to help out, ie. clean up her messes, and be respectful of everyone’s private space. This was not normal.

The next big event happened a few weeks later. Now, living in a co-ed dorm comes with a certain level of risk. I knew this when I enrolled, but there are reasons why it is good to lay down some rules with your roommates. I learned this the difficult way after a night out with some friends. We had gone to see a movie that evening, and it was close to midnight when we arrived back at the dorms. Now I expected to walk in and immediately get ready to go to bed, however, Carolina and his new friend had other ideas. I unlocked the door and walked in to see them going at it mid-thrust. I stood there in shock trying to wrap my head around the fact that there were two more naked people in my room than was ever necessary. I immediately did a 180 and spent the next hour at a friend’s room so that they could clean up and open a window. When I got back, they both apologized profusely and promised that it would never happen again. A couple weeks later, Ohio mentioned that he had also had an encounter of this kind with them and on multiple occasions.

Then one night, I was doing homework. Carolina was heating up some popcorn, and the girlfriend was being her normal obnoxious self with ear-piercing screeches every five minutes and a non-stop flood of bull spewing out of her mouth in between. She was being an idiot and jumping around and inevitably landed wrong on her foot. Immediately she was in tears and screaming bloody murder. The sound of her agony was as if she had been shot. It was then that I had a flashback to my first impression of her as an overgrown toddler, and decided that I had overshot on the age. She was basically an infant.

Now as some of you may well know from my previous accounts, I am a boy scout, and as such, I am supposed to know basic first aid. When she began screaming, the entirety of my first aid knowledge went out the window, partially because I could not hear myself think, and admittedly also because I simply didn’t want to help her. Nevertheless, I proceeded over to Carolina where he was standing petrified and instructed him to call the RA. I bent over the ankle being careful to not make eye contact and began to inspect it. There appeared to be nothing wrong so I gently pressed on certain areas in an attempt to diagnose. From the feedback I received, I couldn’t imagine it was anything more than a sprain, but four hours and one trip to the ER later – 3:15 in the morning – she came in with a loud thump declaring that it had been broken.

I found this hard to believe as it was, but even more hard to believe when she then began telling people that she had sustained the injury in a car accident. Nevertheless, for the next month, she walked around on crutches with a large boot on and even had Carolina carry her around. This must’ve gotten old rather quickly because soon after, he had bought a wagon in which he proceeded to transport her and all of her stuff. For the next two months, this was her preferred mode of transportation, and it was the launching point for many subsequent questionable purchases. These entirely real buys included matching sippy cups, an inflatable squatty potty, a receptacle designed specifically for cooking noodles in the microwave, and the pièce de résistance, the bed tent.

The bed tent is exactly what it sounds like. It is a foldable lightweight tent that sits in between the mattress and the bed frame. I believe it was made for people who need a certain level of sensory deprivation in order to fall asleep. They have named it “The Sex Tent” and it has earned that name many times over. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful that I now don’t have to watch certain activities, but the flaw with their tent is that it is not soundproof. I have woken many times to strange noises and slight whimperings and I have witnessed many occasions, the bedposts have rocking back and forth with both even tempo and great vigor.

Around the time the bed tent went up, a few more things began happening. The first thing that started happening was that she would order plates of food be brought to her, most of which was luke-warm ramen from the microwave. Carolina would faithfully bring every plate to her and she would eat about half and throw the rest out. The result of this was that the room would often smell of soggy noodles. Then one day when she asked for a plate, Carolina flat out said no, as he was concentrating on homework. Nearly immediately after this incident, they began taking baths together, and he often began sporting more hickeys and less clothing when about the room. After this began, he once again faithfully brought her soggy noodles every night. When he got tired of this, she once again raised the level of motivation, and he would go back to being a noodle runner, and so on.

Through this little game, they grew bolder and bolder. First, it was with their public makeout sessions where they would claw at and climb on top of each other. It was as if they were going to go for at it right then and there. Then they began to watch horror movies at all hours if for nothing else, to convince their audience that the endless coital screams were actually jump scares. To this day, I’m not sure who was manipulating who. I can’t decide whether he said no just to get his willy wet, or if she was bribing him with a nice frolic between the knees every time things didn’t go her way. If I was a betting man, my money would be on the latter.

And so, on life went. She lived with us until the very end of the year, much to my dismay. Ohio seemed to try to avoid the place at all costs. He slept over with friends and was usually only in the room if he had a purpose to be there. In hindsight, I admit, we brought our tragic fate upon ourselves. Neither of us took a stand against the abhorrent affront on our noses and imaginations. In the interest of fairness, however, it was difficult to find a time when they weren’t tumbling beneath the sheets. The semester ended with two frequent occurrences:

1. Me cleaning the bathroom at the end of every week with the knowledge that they definitely found a way to make God blush on every surface.
2. Nightly, soft, manipulative screams of a mildly pleasured oversized infant ringing through the hallways of the dormitory.

With this said, I can’t help but almost appreciate the events that have occurred. Throughout my chronicles of disgust, I have had many an epiphany about how not to behave, and what a relationship should not look like. So here are my takeaways from this experience:

Number 1: Be honest. The best way to bring about trouble in any relationship, romantic or otherwise, is to bend the truth or lie. This was the basis of every fight that she and Carolina had, and believe me when I say that I saw them all. She was a pathological liar, so much so that I’m not even sure she knew when she was lying. Either that or she didn’t care.

Number 2: Be empathetic. I maintain that the situation they were in was best described as an extended period of lust and not love. With this in mind, I believe that any kind of love is a give and take situation, romantic or otherwise. With these two, everything was a demand, especially when it came out of the microwave and was high in sodium. Everything was taken and nothing was given. If you do need something, ask politely, and then every once in a while, get up and do something nice for the other person. Bribery, while effective, is not a good foundation for actually caring about someone.

Number 3: For the love of God, baby Jesus, and all the angels do not buy a sippy cup for anyone over the age of four. Learn to drink out of a cup.

Number 4: Be selfless. Don’t make everything about you. Don’t look for sympathy, and especially don’t look for it in the misfortunes of others. Consider the other person, whether that is your significant other, a friend, or even a roommate who’s just looking for a decent night’s sleep. Offer to help. Clean up after yourself so others won’t have to.

And finally Number 5: Learn to recognize unhealthy relationships. Carolina, I’m gonna talk directly to you here. I’m pretty sure you honestly liked her in the beginning, and that’s great! Good for you, bro. The problem is that I think you realized quite some time ago that she’s both downright institutional and about as fun as running through a blackberry bush. I’m pretty sure you stuck around either because you thought you could change her or just so you’d have a place to put the old tallywhacker other than in your right hand. Either way, it’s not a good situation, and the quicker you’re able to recognize the lies and the manipulation, the better off you’ll be. Just maybe do it when she goes back home so that she doesn’t kill you in your sleep.

So friends, when all is said and done, the consequences of this whirlwind of a year have been a mixture of confusing, hilarious, and downright gross. I hope that you will never have to experience a leech like her, and if you do, learn from my mistakes. Say something, stick up for yourself, and never be too lazy to put a sock on the door.

And one more thing! Find a hobby other than sex. Please! I beg you.

EDIT: Carolina and the infant finally did break up. I’ve seen her on occasion but tried to avoid interaction at all costs. I, however, have not seen Carolina since. His current condition and whereabouts are currently unknown.

-Nickel