The Sheltering Sort

My first roommate ever was when I was 18 and a freshman in the dorms at university. At first, she seemed lovely. She was a classically-trained singer from a well-to-do family in Southern California with a big personality and a sweet nature. We were friends for the first few weeks but soon drifted into separate social circles. I certainly did my share of drinking, but her friend group took it to the next level. We had all of the standard roommate issues –  she and her friends ate my food and smoked out the window, and she didn’t see the problem with hooking up with guys inches away from my head while I tried to sleep (our dorm rooms were incredibly small). She enjoyed inserting tampons in front of people just to shock them, as well as discussing her drug experiments and her morning-after bowel movements.

My favourite episode with her was Halloween. In San Francisco, many people go to the Castro District for the festivities. As we were all young and foolish, it seemed like a fun way to spend the evening. Upon arrival in the Castro, I became separated from my friends, money and keys and as a result was terrified and alone. I finally battled my way home and wanted nothing than to put on my PJs and go to bed. I returned to my room to find her sprawled across her bed, gagging herself into the trash can (I never understood why she couldn’t have gagged herself into a toilet instead) with a homeless man passed out on my bed. Homeless. Naturally, I freaked out and went for help. Soon there was a crowd outside of my room and people were saying “you can’t get the RA (resident assistant) involved, B will get in trouble!” Yeah, like I cared if she got in trouble.

We were unable to wake the guy, the RAs (who were eventually summoned) were unable to wake him, and soon the police were called. When they came into the room, he miraculously woke up immediately. He told them he was my boyfriend. They turned to me to see if this was true. Seriously? No. Then they questioned my roommate (still vomiting at this point) who said that he bought her and her friend alcohol and she felt bad because he was going to have to sleep in the bushes so she brought him home so he had a place to sleep. My bed.

They advised her that this was not a good idea and she should not be underage drinking, let alone bringing home strange men. They then removed the guy from my room and escorted him from campus. What was already one of the worst nights of my young life ended with me cleaning out her vomit can and having to wash every bit of bedding I had. Shortly thereafter I applied to leave the dorms a semester early and, surprise, surprise, her parents yanked their once-perfect daughter out of school and put her somewhere closer to home where they could keep an eye on her.