I admit that I might’ve been a bad roommate to Sam. When she came to look at the apartment, I hadn’t cleaned before I left to go to my hometown, because my sister became suddenly ill and I needed to rush there to help take care of her son. I did warn her about it, and she told me it was OK. I thanked her and told her I’m not like that when I have roommates, and when she moved in, the place was spotless.

My first impression of Sam was that she was probably a bit spoiled. She talked to her parents in a baby voice, and she got all new, expensive furniture for her room. She seemed nice though, so I told myself to stop being like the bitch I usually am and roll with it, because it looked like we were going to live together for two years. Her father did “joke” that I had to clean out the balcony before he came to visit next time, since he thought that it wasn’t OK for me to have an ashtray with cigarette butts in it. That made me wonder who was going to live there, him or his daughter, but I just laughed. It wasn’t as if I would push her into becoming a smoker.

The problems I had with Sam started after I hurt my back. That afternoon, I went to the bathroom and saw that Sam had taken all of the toilet paper. I had bought two packs when she moved in, but I couldn’t use the roll she had bought, when she clearly used mine all the time? It felt so passive aggressive and I got really mad at her, but I didn’t confront her about it, since I wanted to avoid drama. I just went to the nearest store to buy toilet paper when my back was screaming in agony. Another time when I was sick, I left my plate in the sink after eating, thinking I would clean it when I felt like the walls weren’t spinning anymore. The next day, when the room was spinning less but wasn’t still enough for me to dare to get up, Sam texted me asking me if I could “please do the dishes” because she couldn’t do her dishes if a plate was in the sink. I asked her if she couldn’t just move the plate and do her dishes, but got no response.

Then my friend was going to visit. I forgot to tell Sam, so I texted her and told her when I was waiting for my friend’s train. She told me “no problem” and she had gone home for the weekend anyway. Now, this wouldn’t be weird if it wasn’t for the fact that the next day, I get a phone call from our landlord, telling me he has gotten complaints about the fact that Sam felt that the apartment was messy, and I needed to clean it up. Considering I had spent all of my time since she moved in inside my room and none in the common areas, where I always make sure to clean after myself, this was a very peculiar conversation. Thinking back, I’m pretty sure that she had complained about the previous mentioned plate to her parents, and they pushed her into calling the landlord. With the plate and the ashtray, I sure was messy.

To top it off, I woke up one morning to find that something was different. It took a while for me to realize what it was, but after looking through cabinets and knocking on Sam’s door, I realized she moved out, without warning, and without waking me up. She left me with a sense of WTF and a slow clap for beating me to it.

My junior year of college, two of my friends and I found a house for rent that we loved, but it was a four-bedroom and we needed another roomie. One of my sorority sisters mentioned that she knew someone from her hometown, a girl she’d gone to high school with, who was transferring to our college and needed a place to live (let’s call her Princess.) Problem solved.

The three of us were moving in a week before Princess, so I covered her portion of the deposit and first month’s rent with the understanding she would pay me back when she arrived. In reality, it actually took around five months for me to get that money back. On at least four occasions, she wrote me checks that bounced three days after I deposited them, resulting in an overdrawn account and staggering fees from my bank. She seemed to be a nice girl and we were all getting along otherwise, and she would apologize profusely every time and give me a laundry list of excuses (she gave me a check to an old account by accident, she had forgotten to transfer the money from savings, blah blah.) This was shady enough by itself, but Princess also liked to allude to her family’s wealth as often as possible. She would go on weekend trips with her dad or the various men she claimed to be dating, then come back and brag to us about mansions on the beach, dinners at five-star restaurants, and the new Vuitton bag she was dying to buy. All the while owing me $1,500 for the move-in cost, not counting all of the charges I’d racked up trying to deposit her worthless checks.

Princess became obsessed with Mercedes SUV’s and rambled endlessly about buying one. Sure enough, one day she came home and dragged all of us outside to see the huge, brand-new, totally loaded SUV sitting in our driveway. We were all a little annoyed, mostly because she’d taken so long to pay me back and her selfishness was getting on our nerves (and we were probably a little jealous too, not gonna lie.) Less than a week later, some police officers showed up at our door looking for Princess. Her father had alerted them she was a possible missing person. Also, she had been at a party that was broken up by a noise complaint, and the cop there checked everyone’s ID’s to make sure there was no underage drinking. He was suspicious of Princess’s ID so he confiscated it. The officers in my living room then showed us the driver’s license she had given, which was also how they found our address, and of course it was mine. I had gotten a new one when I turned 21 and left the old one in a desk drawer, and apparently Princess had helped herself to it.

When Princess came home, she was all in a fury over her father and the ID situation. She apologized profusely and claimed her father was just being overprotective and dramatic, and she hadn’t been at the party but had loaned my ID to a friend, which she knew was a terrible thing to do and was so sorry, etc.  Then she made a big scene of stomping around the house on her cell phone, supposedly yelling at her dad and the friend. During these conversations, she wandered out to the front yard, which we all did when we needed some privacy on the phone, and I could see her from my bedroom window. About an hour later, I looked out and saw a tow truck backing up to her Mercedes. Yup, it was getting repossessed. Princess had given the dealership a check for the down payment when she bought it, which of course bounced. We later found out the check was for $21,000.

We never saw Princess in person again after that. There were some signs that she had come back to the house when no one was home and taken little necessities like underwear and her suitcase. We were near the end of the lease by then and could manage to split the rent three ways if she never paid, which we assumed she wouldn’t. Truthfully we were all kind of glad she wasn’t around, plus we figured she was staying with a friend and was too embarrassed to see us after all that had happened. It was about a month later when one of the roommates called and said her checking account was overdrawn by $5,000.  Because of checks she had supposedly written out to me, and I had supposedly cashed. As it turns out, during one of her jaunts back to the house, Princess had swiped my old driver’s license AGAIN, even though I stashed it in a box under my bed and she would have had to do some serious searching to find it. She’d also taken some of roommate’s checks, written them out to me, and then used my ID to cash them. In another state.  It was really creepy to see the scanned images of the checks, which showed that she had obviously practiced forging my signature.

The bank eventually sorted everything out, we filed a police report and my roommate was reimbursed, which I suppose is the happiest ending we could hope for having lived eight months with a pathological liar and identity thief. We also discovered that she had never even enrolled at our college, though we’d all had countless conversations with her about our classes and seen her writing papers and studying. She never came back for her furniture or the rest of her stuff, so we had the joy of throwing it all away when we moved out. We weren’t at all surprised to see that her cherished collection of designer handbags were all cheap plastic knockoffs.

I’m sure many readers here have had a flatmate like me. I’m a 24 year old male, fairly intelligent, but unfortunately a bit a loser and a computer addict. I never played WoW, but more tended just to spend a lot of time on the internet on forums, and a bit of Warcraft 3. I’m not consistantly like this, it’s more I get into these depressive spells that turn into a vicious cycle, I start playing some games, and that makes me depressed and not want to go out, and so I just play games to pass the time. This year I managed to get kicked out of four flats in my study year.

The first flat I moved into was with the 30 something year old lady, her boyfriend, and another guy. At this time I was actually on supervision for doing graffiti, and my PO told me that I had to tell any potential flats about this, which did make find a flat at the start of the study year a bit harder, and so I was really thankful that this lady was OK with it. The landlady was Iranian, into a bit of spirituality, was a counselor for a living. Also she seemed to have a bit of a struggle with her eating habits (she was overweight), she would talk to me about how she was wheat free, but then told me one day, “I’m trying just to eat what my body tells me – today it was donuts.” Anyway, she was a little passive aggressive, and example was I had just done the dished, and she told me off for not microwaving the sponge afterward (I didn’t really see that as a big deal – she could have just microwaved it herself, and save having to tell me off). After one month the landlady told me that she had some friends coming to stay, and that when I moved in she didn’t know if they were coming or not. To this day I don’t know if this was the truth or not. When I went to move out – she accused me of using her shampoo (I didn’t), and breaking a baby lemon tree (I don’t think I did, I suspect it was her partner’s son), and wanted reimbursement for it, which she took from the bond.

Next flat was with a fairly normal young couple, the arrangement was that they were the lease holders and the other flatmates would pay a fixed rate, rather than a share of the rent, so they were getting a good deal on the rent when the flat was full. The flat quite a nice house in a dodgy area. I hardly talked to the girl of the couple, and so was only ever told off by the guy. Things I did that annoyed them: general messiness in the kitchen – I never left the kitchen hugely messy, but I might have missed a bit of wiping down. These guys were pretty tidy, so it was fair enough. I was smoking weed in my room for about two weeks before they noticed and told me that it wasn’t on. Sleeping on the bed with out sheets – (more the sheets riding up and me not remaking the bed). And yeah – my staying inside was pretty bad at this time. I lasted about two or three months at this place before they asked me to leave.

Next flat was with some students, it was quite a run down flat which was good in contrast to my last flat – I felt I could relax a bit. The first night I moved in, I asked if we were allowed to smoke weed inside – which was a bit of faux pas – none of them smoked weed, and were actually a bit anti – I assumed that as they were so casual that they did. They would sit in the living room with their laptops and post things on each others Facebook Walls and talk about it. I thought it was pretty lame. The only other guy flatmate was idolised by the girls, he was quite loud and obnoxious in my opinion, he really admired cops, and struck me as the kind of guy who would be a real power tripping cop. These guys almost never did the dishes. One night I went to party that it turned out the guy flatmate was also going to. I ended up getting quite drunk (as you do), and taking the piss out of him, when he came back to house while a few of us were just milling around
outside about to go into town, saying “Alright guys, I’m here to shut the party down.” The next day they asked me to leave – citing “it wasn’t working out” – the real reason was because their mate had just broken up with his girlfriend and so needed a new flat. Oh well.

I quickly found a new flat that seemed real cool. It was with some alternative arty type guys, in a fairly rundown house, two of them smoked weed, and for the most part it was real cool. Still spent too much time on computer, at times, but it wasn’t too awkward. One of the flatmates was a small time pot dealer, and his deals were real good. Early on in the piece I fucked up though – at the time we hadn’t sorted out the internet for my computer, because we needed a multiport router – so I was just to use his computer, which the other flatmates did. He left his personal stash right in front of the computer, and helped myself to a few bongs. He’d been weighing it to see if I did and confronted me about it and I owned up. He told me “not cool” and I didn’t do it anymore, and by that time we had sorted the internet out for my computer. The flatmate that didn’t smoke weed was a bit anal/uptight (for example he’d bitch when the dishes didn’t get done)
- but actually quite a cool dude who I enjoyed talking to. I was pretty good at doing the dishes in this flat, better than the other two flatmates.

Annoyed this uptight flatmate by using his Ranch dressing while I was really drunk making toasted sandwiches. One time I was running late for a test, and I didn’t have enough change for the bus, so took 70c from his room and paid him back that night. It annoyed him, but I don’t think either of us thought it was a huge deal. (Earlier on I had been in the habit of going into his room and reading his comics, but I stopped that). But the shit kinda hit the fan one night when one afternoon the other two flatmates invited me to get drunk with them. So got nicely drunk, and then we happened to be in kitchen where one of the flatmates German girlfriend was cooking dinner. I asked her “So what do they teach you about WWI and WWII in school?” and she got defensive – She got upset and marched out. I went outside and was having a bit a laugh about it, and the other flatmate came out – and told me that I’d have to be out in two weeks, – I told him that I
didn’t think it was a big deal – and he also cited me taking his weed earlier and the borrowing 70c.

Actually, I was the terror roommate in this story, not the girl I lived with.

I started college this past September and moved into the dorms on campus. My roommate was randomly assigned (let’s call her T). Two weeks before the official move-in date, I called T and informed her that I had a couple of mental disorders (Bipolar Disorder Type II and PTSD) and, if she’d like to, she should put in a request to change roommates now. She was quiet for a long time before asking nervously, “Why?” I laughed and said, “Ah. I have problems. That’s all.”

The days leading up to move-in, I bombarded her with weird questions and hypothetical situations via Facebook and email, or I would call, make plans to meet with her, and suddenly cancel. The first week of living on campus, before school actually started, I went to all the mandatory events, and promised T I would be social and go out, as well as exercise with her (exercise having been demanded by my therapist on campus to help with my disorders). After the first week, I rarely left the room, always had music blaring, left the lights on, left my keys in the door and ate food without asking first, assuming that she was eating mine as well, since I had said that it was acceptable. She was forced to deal with an emotional breakdown and several days I called “nothing days,” where I stayed curled up in bed all day, facing the wall, under the blanket and just stared blankly when anyone tried to get me to do anything.

On the more “high end” days, I was overly energetic and highly irritable, despite being on lithium and trazodone and prone to oversharing; T was incredibly patient and listened when I would talk about my past, my family, my noted lack of a social life, my fear of others and why individuals like myself were never meant to be happy. She even talked me up out of much darker, bleaker moods. One of the worst things she’s had to deal with is my obsessive cleaning habits. I’ve managed to regulate myself to the weekends, when she’s not here, but I’ll thoroughly scrub down everything, vacuum, dust and straighten/organize for hours. T has even gone so far as to help gently motivate me to attend counseling sessions again and she’s on top of making sure I eat normally, take my medication every day and get outside several times, even if it’s just to throw away trash in the dumpster.

T will even go out into the hall if the other girls in the dorm are getting too loud and ask them to quiet down on the days I can’t handle a lot of excess noise. She had the option of moving into another dorm or living with another roommate for winter term, but she refused because she wants to make sure I’m okay. I’m pretty damn lucky to have a roommate who’s understanding and is trying to help me work through my issues, even when I try to keep her from it because it’s not fair to be burdened with that at 18. I’m 19, I should know better.

So I’m a pretty sucky roommate, but I’m working on it.

In my freshman year of college my roommate and I got along pretty well for the most part. I didn’t/don’t like drinking or partying, but he did, which he luckily did most of in either of the rooms next to us. We had agreed on certain rules, such as no drinking/smoking/etc in the room, no touching each others stuff without asking, among other normal roommate agreements. This was also the time when my mom was dying of lung cancer back home, about 400 miles away, which had been affecting me the entire three and a half months I was there until she died (and even until now as a junior). A few weeks after returning from winter break, my mom passed away, and I flew home for a week to attend her funeral. My father and two older sisters drove back up to school with me, which is near a town my mom liked to visit, as a way to be there for each other before I returned to my studies. After spending some time in town, we drove up to campus, which my sisters hadn’t seen yet. I showed them some things around campus, ending up at my building to show them my room and possibly meet my friends and roommate.

When we get to my room, I noticed one thing that was definitely not right: I had a power strip attached to the frame my bed with duct tape and it had been removed. I looked more closely to notice that my bed wasn’t in the same position as before I had left and my bed wasn’t made, which I had definitely done before I left. I looked around the room to see if anything else had been changed or moved or even worse stolen. I looked in my book case, where I kept my cereal, and noticed that had been moved as well. I picked up the box of Frosted Flakes only to find three empty cans of Coors sitting there. Luckily, my sisters understood I didn’t drink, so I didn’t really have to explain that part, but I was worried my dad would walk up to the room at any moment and get the wrong idea, causing me to rush my sisters out, upset and confused.

After my family left and I unpacked, I called my roommate, who his friends said had gone home for the weekend. I called him a few times and left an angry voice mail (a bit immature of me but I hope you understand the feeling). He called me back later wondering why I was so mad. I explained to him how disrespectful it was to move my stuff and hide beer cans on my side of the room, especially while I was home for my mom’s funeral. I asked him what happened and he told me they had to use my bed so that he could play card games with his friends (because no one else’s rooms had beds and the floor was too uncomfortable, I suppose). Then I asked what was up with the beer cans, and he said, “Oh, that’s where he (one of his friends) hid them.” I just couldn’t believe how nonchalant he was about the whole thing, not considering the fact that I might be a bit upset to find my things moved after what I was going through or the fact that I would be the one to get in trouble if an RA had seen it.

I was in Spain for an exchange with two girls I knew from my previous major. Me and J (who arrived with me to Spain first) shared a room in a chalet with another 20 people. The first sign that things weren’t going to be easy was at the end of the first week when my roommate got really drunk and wasn’t allowed into the club we all went to. So she went home and I entrusted our keys to the guy she left with, who also a housemate. When we got back home the next morning I found out they had lost our keys and I had to sleep on the floor of another girl’s room while she slept with the guy in his room in his warm bed.

After that, roommate #2 who will be called M arrived and she gave away all of our food. She wasn’t so bad because she wasn’t as drunk as J but she was also lazy and didn’t care about anything. Our room was an eternal cloud of smoke. A month later P joined in so we were four in the same room. P was a pretty cool chick but had another guy in the house chasing after her so we often had him creeping into our room at night. It was five months of living with girls who respected nothing, often had guys sleeping over, went to the bathroom with the door wide open, smoked all the time, stole my food and clothes.

We had many arguments, I cried, threw their clothes out the window onto the trees and many of their bras ended up in the freezer. On Christmas I was away with my boyfriend and saw on Facebook that M had uploaded photos of her outside on the snow with my pajamas on. When I got back I asked her if she had at least washed them and she laughed and said she hadn’t. I told her she could keep them. In the end we all apologized for everything and they let me live off their food for our last few weeks in Spain, My Very Worst Roommates became my really good friends and we still keep in touch.

My boyfriend and I moved into the city and got a nice apartment. About a year later, his best friend, C, called him and said he was looking for a job and needed to come to the city since he couldn’t find one in his town. Since it was my boyfriend’s best friend, I agreed that he could stay with us. I mean, they had been friends since third grade and I thought everything would be fine. We let him stay with us for free (until he found a job) and he slept on my couch. Little annoying things started happening. First, C smoked weed all the time. I have nothing against it, but when you open the door and there’s a nice cloud of smoke, it’s a little much. Since he was such a big pothead he only would apply for construction jobs that didn’t drug test. Also, his idea of job hunting was playing World of Warcraft.

Since he didn’t have his computer with him, we let him use ours. I eventually had to tell him to stop using my laptop because he would never get off it. He started using my boyfriend’s, which was in our bedroom. That meant I would wake up to him in our room, playing WoW. We’d even have to kick him out at night so we could sleep. When I had to get ready for work, I had to ask him to get out. On numerous occasions he would tell me to wait because he was in the middle of a “raid.” C finally got a job so we got a two-bedroom apartment. I thought things would be better, but things only got worse. Immediately, he was behind on rent. I paid my part and my boyfriend made enough to cover the rest. Of course, C promised to pay him back and started an IOU sheet that steadily began to grow.

On Christmas, my boyfriend had work and C had his son for the holiday. I decided to stay in our room since his son was watching TV in the living room. Suddenly, C comes barging into the room and tells I had to leave. I asked him why and he told me that his son was not allowed to be under the same roof as another woman. I had never heard of such a thing and I knew him and his baby’s mama had never been married it wasn’t a custody law thing. I asked him if he informed my boyfriend of this and he told me no. I went off on him and told him he was $1500 behind on rent and he didn’t have any right to tell me to leave. When my boyfriend came home I told him about the incident. He talked to C, asked for the papers or any kind of proof about the claim that I couldn’t be there. Surprise, surprise! He didn’t have any. I let this go only because my boyfriend told him off.

Aside from the fact that he was now $2100 behind on rent and always broke we still felt sorry for him. We would even buy extra groceries so C could eat. Despite all this, I heard him loudly telling his girlfriend how he hated that I was there. When we would try to watch a movie at night, C would start cussing us out, telling us to turn it down even though his TV was blaring, which was the reason we had to turn the volume up. He kept eating our food, drinking our alcohol, burned all my incense and candles and bitched when we started to decorate the living room since he felt a poster of Homer Simpson and a ninja sword was good enough (this guy is 27).  Neither of us smoke but C would smoke in the apartment when we weren’t there and lie about it. One night he caused a small fire on the patio by not putting out a cigarette. It melted our ice chest and scorched the side of the wall.

One of the most disturbing things was that he would have explosive diarrhea and there would be feces on the outside of the toilet. When we would ask him to clean up his mess he would say, “Well there’s more than one person here. It was probably you.” Everything came to a head, when we started realizing our change jars were mysteriously shrinking instead of growing. I voiced my suspicion and my boyfriend confronted C about it, yet he denied it. So, my boyfriend decided to be sneaky. He placed a certain amount of cash in his wallet and left it out in the living room like he would usually do. The next day, he found a note in his wallet from C stating that he borrowed $40, but he was actually missing $80. He confronted C again, told him he knew he took $80 and finally the guy cracked and admitted to having continuosly stolen money from him and had taken the change from our change jars to buy cigarettes and sodas. He even claimed that he stole from him because he was “jealous.” We told him he had two weeks to move out. During those two weeks, C started making massive messes in the living room and kitchen without cleaning it up and began to smoke inside while we were there.

When he was moving out, he tried to steal our remote control, a hair brush, several bars of soap and a few glasses and plates. We had to throw out my nice computer chair, which I had let C use, because it had multiple burn marks and a broken leg. Our apartment finally smells clean again. It had smelled like weed, oil, cigarettes and dirt when C lived there (which is exactly what he smells like). He still owes my boyfriend $2,100. Looks like there may be a visit to small claims court in the near future.

I roomed with MVWR for a semester before she became worthy of the title. Although she wasn’t a great roommate I can deal with a lot and generally try to keep the peace, so I agreed to move into a house with her and two other girls, T and P, the next year. She and I would share a room and T and P would have the other. I am an admitted messy person, but have always kept my mess to my personal area. She constantly would make fun of my “inability” to clean when she was the only one who didn’t know how to clean the bathroom when her turn came up on the chore rotation. Anytime anyone made food, she was right there trying to get some. When she did make food, she’d leave half full pots of food around until it started to mold. She left packs of crackers with three or four left in them all over the house, getting really upset when we got mice. I had to be up at 6am and was always very courteous not to wake her, but she would flip on lights after I had already gone to bed. When we tried to have a roommate meeting to talk about some problems we had, she screamed at us for persecuting her.

The last straw came the first weekend into spring semester when I decided to go back home for the long weekend since I wouldn’t be seeing my family for a few months because of an internship I was in. She spent the entire weekend on P’s couch, watching T’s TV, yelling when someone tried to change it when she was out of the room, generally making everyone in the house feel unwelcome. We found out shortly after that she hadn’t been taking the anti-depressants she needed. One cutting attempt resulting in our needing to call security, four meetings with Residence Life, a death threat and physical attack later, the three of us spent nine hours moving into an apartment across campus because she hadn’t done anything to deserve being kicked out of the house.

Six girls, including me, lived in a theme house on campus. We each had our own rooms, four upstairs and two downstairs. MVWR was obnoxious, inconsiderate and messy. No, not messy, I guess, because that implies more of a clothes-on-the-floor thing and she was disgusting. She would eat or drink from cups and utensils and instead of washing them, she would only rinse them out and then set them on the counter to dry (thankfully she never placed them ON the drying rack, so we always knew which cups to avoid.) She would drop food on the floor and not pick it up. On multiple occasions, I walked into the kitchen only to step in jelly that was smeared on the floor or find it smeared on the counters, table or fridge handle. She would do this despite house meetings when we reminded everyone to clean up food and do their dishes. She would do this despite the ants and fruit flies that took advantage of it.

She was foreign, but I only mention this because at first we thought that perhaps the issue here was a cultural barrier. Well, maybe I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure it’s not socially acceptable anywhere to be so careless when showering and spilling so much water out of the tub that it seeps through the wall into another girl’s room. Or to continue to spill water so that it ends up flooding through the floor onto the couch in the living room. But the piece de resistance was one morning, M woke up around 7am to use the bathroom. When she walked in, she found that MVWR had somehow manage to smear menstrual blood all over the toilet and floor. She described it as like it had dropped on the floor and been stepped in. When confronted, MVWR’s excuse was that when she had gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and she hadn’t been wearing her glasses. I should mention that the flooring, toilet and walls in that bathroom were all white. You don’t need glasses to be able to see red-on-white. And she didn’t learn from her mistake because a month later the bathroom was covered in blood again.

If that was cultural, I’m a goose.

College was a fantastic time in my life, but it certainly didn’t start off that way. Firstly, my mother contrived to stick me into an all-male dorm under some silly notion that I wouldn’t get into trouble. Truth be told, guys who live in coed dorms tend to be a lot more civilized than their animal counterparts in all-male dorms–but I guess that’s water under the bridge at this point.

Secondly, I had not one, not two, but THREE roommates, in what they called a “quad” (which was basically a slightly larger room–nowhere NEAR the same amount of square footage per person). Granted, I was a total nerd and a basket case (from never having to share personal living space as I grew up), but these guys were assholes, too. The nerd blood was in the water on day one–and these guys clearly relished in making my life miserable.

One of the aggravating factors was that I resisted partying with my roommates, which they correctly interpreted as a snub. They were able to get back at me, though. One night I got totally smashed with my friends, and paid the price in the hall bathroom (in these dorms, there was only one large shared bathroom per hall). The bathroom was a locker-room type setup, with benches in front of the showers. Anyway, after my stomach was sufficiently emptied, I stumbled to one of the benches and passed out. My next memory was my three roommates standing over me with the exact same smile on their faces. One of them finally spoke:

“Hey, do you realize some dude’s naked, hairy ass was pressed on that bench? Your face is right up on it, dude!”

I passed out again, and I remember thinking “he has a point.”