MVWR was a girl that I lived with my junior year of college. Lets call her M. After transferring to a new school, I had decided to live in the dorms in order to meet new friends. However I ended up having to live with the most annoying, “OCD”, territorial and passive aggressive person I have ever met.

I had arrived first to move in to the dorms so I was pretty much already settled in when M moved in later. This girl was a petite blonde who liked the Ed Hardy/Jersey Shore Douche look. She also had the loudest voice I have ever heard! Now, I’m not a slob and I did some initial cleanup/sanitatition upon moving in to the apartment; but M went crazy with the cleaning. She scrubbed down all the walls, doors and doorknobs. She also cleaned both of the bathrooms including mopping. At first I thought it would be nice to live with someone so clean, but it did not turn out so great.

A week later, M asked me and the other roommate (X, who is a MVWR story all of her own) if one of the bathrooms could specificly belong to her while both of us shared the other one.  At first I said no, because it did not make any sense since there were three of us, and what if someone needed to use the bathroom while someone was in it etc. These logical statements made M burst into tears and cry/sniffle about how “it wasn’t respectful.” So we ended up letting her use the small bathroom while we used the big one.

A month into living with M, I noticed that her “OCD cleaning problem” appeared to not be a real issue because M was actually a very messy person! She would make ramen with my pots and never clean after (even though she somehow managed to burn the ramen and thus the pan). She would also clip her toenails on the living room coffee table and never clean it up. Gross! Then there was “her” bathroom. It was utterly disgusting, with the toilet never flushed, dust everywhere, used tampons on the floor etc. There were also red lipstick kiss marks on the mirror that were a bitch to clean off later.

The last problem was her psychotic ex-boyfriend, who shall be called Duke. She had broken up with him because he had abused her, so I have no idea why she would get back with him. The climatic moment was one morning when they got into a fight and Duke shoved M up against a wall. Somehow something glass was shattered, I found tiny shards of glass right in the hallway for months after.

Eventually X and I filed a police report against Duke because of his violent behaviour (he would try to start fights with us over imagined slights, even if we were sleeping or our doors were closed) and this was the final straw for M. She finally moved out, but never really cleaned up after herself and also left about 20 huge nails in the wall from pictures. We calculated that M probably got fined about $2,000 for her apartment damages.

My Very Worst Roommate odyssey began when a guy on my floor of the freshman dorm asked me to room with him the following year. He was having problems finding a roommate partly because he had gotten a job as an RA and was assigned to the most destructive floor of a well-known all-male party dorm at our college. We got along well and he was entertaining character so I figured what the hell? As it turned out, hell was exactly what was waiting for me.

A month or so into our happy living situation it became apparent that what I thought were fun quirks were actually surface indicators of a fascinating personality disorder. This kid–let’s call him “K”- was a mess to begin with and the pressures of college life made him slowly dissolve like a jello in the hot hot sun. Let’s begin with his experimentations with alcohol which were disastrous to say the least. I never knew this was a real problem for some people until that year, but K had a serious issue with sleepwalking and would frequently (whenever he drank) wander into the hallway in the middle of the night and urinate indiscriminately, sometimes in many directions like a sprinkler, often returning to the wrong room and passing out in the beds of the residents he was supposed to be responsible for.

He also had a penchant for drunk booting; he usually preferred sinks but one night he got queasy in bed and puked from the top bunk down onto my computer. He used my favorite hooded sweatshirt to clean it up and threw the poor thing behind a closet door where I found it months later on that joyous day when I finally moved out. On another memorable evening after K had attended a particularly raucous frat party I returned to our room and turned on the light to find him naked, on his back, in a classic spread eagle pose on our couch (which I never sat in again.) Why oh why did I flip that light switch? I almost wish I could go back in time and blind myself first.

Next lets discuss the “Abtronic.” You may remember seeing this device advertised on TV back in the day- it was essentially a felt pad with electronic nodes that you would strap around your waist to purportedly shock your stomach muscles into shape. K ordered his Abtronic before spring break in order to “firm up his hot abs” and for a month or so would wear the thing around the room in his boxer briefs, shocking himself to prep for the ladies. I would invite people over just to have witnesses for what I was dealing with here.

Also, as is true with most VWRs, K was an utter slob. While obsessive about his own outward appearance to the point of obsession, he turned the room into a trash pit to the point where we even had cockroaches in the spring. Just as one example of the man’s tidy habits: he once left several packages of chicken breasts in his dormitory fridge and accidently unplugged it over break so that when we came back the room smelled like rotting chicken for weeks. You could actually smell it a quarter mile or so before you got to the building but I knew right away it had to be coming from our room–our friend K at work. He tried to clean it out and cover the smell by using bleach which only morphed the stench into something astronomically worse… yup I got to know the rest of campus pretty well that year.

Unfortunately when I was in the room I also had a front row seat for K’s blossoming sexual exploration as well. He was considerate about not locking me out of the room, and instead if I would return home from somewhere late at night he would sometimes stuff the girl he was hooking up with under his sheets up on the top bunk, pretend he was alone, wait (for three minutes or so) until he decided I was asleep and then resume his awkward thrusting and moaning, He literally lost his virginity early in the first semester about four feet from my face.

Meanwhile, the other residents on the floor grew to hate K, not just because he made their hallway smell like piss but also because of his obnoxious swagger (yup you’re picturing him correctly–he’s one of those guys that pops the collars of their pink polo shirts and constantly refers to themselves in the third person) and the fact that he took his RA job just barely seriously enough to spoil their fun antics by preventing them from raping drunk girls and tearing sinks out of the walls. He referred to them as “the mob” and was convinced they were conspiring against him and plotting to do him physical harm (he was right).

Eventually, having lost any hope for respect, he gave up on fulfilling any of his responsibilities and would hide out from the residents in our room, turning off the lights and pretending no one was there if they knocked on our door to get let into their rooms or borrow the floor’s vacuum cleaner. He was finally fired from the RA job when another RA (his arch nemesis from another frat) came across him crawling out a window to escape being caught in a dorm room party with an illegal keg. Well done dude… another of America’s future leaders caught squirming through the cracked walls of academia.

The only upside to this whole situation was that it used to win me sympathy from women on campus. K was relatively well-known because in addition to his terrible reputation for being overly aggressive with females he was also interfraternity council chair or president or something stupid like that, so if any girl happened to hear that he was my roommate they would give me this deeply sympathetic look as if I just told them my new puppy had bone cancer. Perhaps the most amazing part of his behaviour was the fact that for years he would retell some of these stories in front of other people as if they were things I had done to HIM instead of the other way around (like for example- “hey slapnuts remember that time you booted on my computer and used my favourite hoodie to clean it up?”) No, slapnuts- but remember that time I powned you on My Very Worst Roommate with a full posting of the truth…?

Well anyways I ended up surviving the year, and amazingly enough 10 years later, K is still one of my best friends although I will never, ever share a room with him again in any capacity. As for the Abtronic, you can probably find it on Ebay along with his dignity.

My Very Worst Roommate was one of three other girls that I lived with during my sophomore year of college. At first we all got along well, but it didn’t take long for things to get ugly.

Three of us were good about putting our dishes in the dishwasher right away and running it when it got full, but MVWR would leave her gross dishes “soaking” in the sink until my stainless steel silverware rusted and left rust spots all over my dishes. We would come home and the apartment would be like a sauna because she would turn the heat up all the way and then leave (no matter what the weather was like outside). She would constantly take our clothes out of the dryer when they were still damp so she could do things like warm up her towels before a shower, and then didn’t even put our stuff back in after.

The crowning glory of the experience happened on one night when she went out drinking with some of her friends, as she frequently did. When she came home later that night, she had lost her key and was thumping on the door for someone to come and let her in. When we opened the door, she was sitting, bare-assed, on the gross carpet of the hallway, pissing on the floor. At least it wasn’t in our living room, I guess, but it was still disgusting.

I moved out the second that I could afford to. One thing I will say is that the VWR’s mother came and cleaned all the common areas of the apartment after we all moved out. But it didn’t quite make up for half of my kitchen things needing replacement.

I’ve had a couple of roommates with annoying habits, but my senior year roommate, Y was comprised of more than just the run-of-the-mill annoyances. Y and I started out as pretty close friends when I moved into a house with her and 3 other girls.

Before that, I had lived in a house with four guys, so it was nice to be able to borrow clothes from the girls. Not every day – usually just stuff for semi-formal events, like dresses, shoes, jewelry, etc. And we always asked beforehand. One of Y’s sorority sisters found out I would be living with her and remarked, “Watch out. She’s a clothes-stealer!” I laughed it off (famous last words).

I started noticing some clothes missing here or there and would see Y come home wearing one of my shirts or hoodies or something like that. I would make a joke like, “Nice shirt.” At first, it didn’t bother me that much because she was so stylish and I was flattered that she liked my clothes. Then I realized she was borrowing stuff without asking.. a LOT of stuff.

Sometimes I would ask about a specific item of clothing that I couldn’t find, and she would get extremely defensive and indignant at my query, saying she had no idea where my shirt/dress/whatever was. I felt like I was losing my mind, until one time I walked by her open door and saw the item in question sitting out on her couch. It was so frustrating… I didn’t understand why she just couldn’t tell me that yes, she had borrowed it and that she would return it?

I confronted her and said,” I don’t mind if you want to borrow my clothing but could you please just ask first and return it when you are done?” All I wanted was a text or a little sticky note saying, “I borrowed X, will return, thanks.” Something like that. Instead of saying, okay I can do that, she got all heated and said, “I’ll just never borrow anything of yours ever again!”

The last straw was when my favorite sweatpants went missing. Over the weekends, I liked to dress up nice and get dolled up, but Monday through Friday, I was strictly casual. I wore sweats and hoodies to class every single day. I had a pair of orange sweatpants that I loved and were pretty distinctive (not only because they were orange, but also because they said PINK across the butt). I couldn’t find them for weeks, but it was just after winter break so I thought maybe I had left them back at my parents’ house.

One day, I was hanging out with two of my other roommates (L & E) and L mentioned that she couldn’t find some article of her clothing. I mentioned that I thought I’d left my orange sweats at my parents’ house and was bummed about it. L said, “You mean those orange sweats that Y wears all the time?” She had been wearing them for weeks and somehow I never saw them–meaning she strategically planned it out so I would never see it. It was so disarming that she was being so sneaky.

After some discussion and inventory between L, E, and I, we decided we each had a lot more clothing missing than we had originally thought. One weekend when Y was out of town, we planned an invasion. We went into her room and went through her closet and dresser and found piece after piece of pilfered clothing. The worst part was that I opened one of her drawers and saw that it was her “unmentionables” drawer. I quickly shut it, feeling a little ashamed, until I caught a glimpse of one of my bras!

We left her room with our piles of clothing and I made a mental note to buy a new doorknob with a key. I kept a key on my key ring and hid the spare in the kitchen, only telling L & E where it was hidden. I kept waiting for some kind of reaction from Y–after all, our clothing had constituted about a tenth of her wardrobe–but it never came.

Luckily, that was the extent that her friendship harmed me, but L was not so lucky. Y happened to be extremely careless and would stumble home drunk after a night out without locking the door behind her. One morning, L woke me at 7AM, asking if I had borrowed her car the night before. I grumbled that I had not and fell back asleep. An hour or so later I could hear L still panicking about her car and sensed a problem.

First I thought maybe someone had borrowed the car and wrecked it or something like that, but when I looked in the driveway the car was simply… not there. It piqued my interest so I wandered into the living room to see what was going on. L was sitting in the living room with E, sobbing, talking to the police. As it turned out, Y had characteristically left the front door unlocked, and when L awoke to go to work her car was gone!! Someone was in our house, had seen keys on the coffee table, and just took the car AND her laptop.

The car was bad enough, but then one of the cops said, “You’re lucky that’s all that happened. This guy was in your house, and nobody wouldn’t heard you scream.” I thought it was an odd thing for a cop to say, but it really hit home. That night could have taken a seriously deadly turn if the burglar had had worse intentions than stealing a car.

L’s car was found abandoned a few days later; a little worse for wear, but still drivable. Y did not offer to pay to have the car fixed up or to replace the laptop. I’m not even sure she apologized. We had a house meeting to address the door-locking issue, but it was basically just a meeting to make sure Y learned from the incident. She ho-hummed, seemed like she got the message, then proceeded to leave the door unlocked several more times in the following months.

I stopped talking to her after college ended (three years ago). She sent me an email last year, trying to reconnect and asking to meet for lunch. I thought about it for a minute then said no. My dad says that friends like her are put in your life to help you learn how to deal with difficult people, but I think I learned enough!!

I was a serious science student at an Institute of Technology, and everybody I’d met in my first year had been serious also. But women were scarce and I didn’t know any who didn’t already have a roommate, so I had to take my luck with the random roommate slot.

Imagine my shock when my second year roommate at this serious Tech school appeared to be a bubblehead there to get her MRS degree. I don’t know if she attended classes; she never seemed to study. Within a few minutes of meeting me she announced that she’d spent the summer working for (some trendy clothing store) and she would teach me to Fold My Shirts Properly.

Again, I was a focused student, in a difficult field, with large projects. I often studied late into the night. My roommate wanted to go to sleep at 9PM (really!) and insisted she absolutely could not sleep with my desk light on or me tapping on my keyboard. After the first few days, where she demanded I go to bed when she did, and I told her “I need to keep working,” her complaints turned into all-day nagfests. The whole time we were both in the room, she was either whining at me about it or trying to convince me that it was somehow my problem. It never stopped!

To this day I don’t understand what she thought was going to happen in a college dorm–and *I* was a much more pleasant roommate than many. I was studying and was relatively quiet. I wasn’t noisily making out with a guy in the next bunkbed, I wasn’t drinking (or out getting drunk and coming in late and loud), I wasn’t playing loud music or video games. But hey, I was a college student paying for my own tuition; I was damn well going to do the work I needed to do for my classes…but she’d whine and nag and screech. She blew off my suggestions (curtains around her bed, eye covers and earplugs, etc). I *had* to go to bed at 9PM and shut off all my lights, just like she did, or I would Ruin her Life.

Eventually I went to Housing and told them I just couldn’t work like this, and they let me move into a private apartment room that had just opened up. Usually they only let juniors and seniors into those rooms, but they took pity on me with my idiot of a roommate. I hope whoever they put in the room after I left DID come in noisy and drunk at 3AM.

H was my randomly-assigned roommate during my freshman year of college. From the moment she asked me who my favorite character on The Hills was, I deduced that we did not have much in common, but still, I was hopeful that we could at the least get along well. As we were moving in on the first day, she asked if it would be okay with me if her friend who was coming to visit her the next weekend stayed in our room for a night. I said sure, and since she said that he would be sleeping on the floor, I assumed that it was not that type of relationship and didn’t make plans to crash anywhere else that night.

A week later, I opened the door to the room at 10 at night to find H clinging to her much-bigger friend like a spider monkey, their mouths locked, surrounded by empty bottles of Mike’s Hard. Well. Okay. Shit happens, I understand, and I found other places to be. By 1 that night, I was tired of hanging out in the lounge, and my friend and I walked back to my room…where I opened the door to them having sex on her desk chair.

Finally, by 3 a.m., I had had enough (and had been busted by security for sleeping in the lobby), so I went back and got into bed as loudly as possible in the hopes that they would not continue with any unsavory activities in my presence.

In the morning, I felt distinctly awkward because they were both still in her bunk, giggling. I could see, in the light, that the room was a wreck and a bunch of stuff on my desk had been broken. I gathered up my books and headed to the library for a few hours, but eventually I had to go back. H, inexplicably, spent most of the day curled in the fetal position, surrounded by her friends, loudly bemoaning her hickies. Her guest stayed, too, reclining shirtless on her bed while she was out of the room.

That night, I was wondering when he was going to leave because we both had class in the morning, but I really didn’t want to say anything at that point. When I left the room, they were watching TV. When I came back ten minutes later, they were having sex on my rug. I slammed the door and yelled, “WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE?” She stormed out with him and came back alone at midnight, turned on all the lights and screamed “I AM NOT A WHORE.”

The next morning, I calmly explained that I did not think she was a whore and didn’t care how many people she slept with, just as long as she gave me forewarning and didn’t break my stuff. Everything was fine until the next weekend, when I opened the door at 3 a.m. to a different guy spread-eagle on her bed. That’s when I decided we had irreconcilable differences and we both found new living arrangements.

I should have seen the red flags when my freshman roommate, V, insisted on taking a picture of us together, printing, it out, and hanging it on the door for all to see before I had even finished unpacking. I was quite shy though, so I was glad to have at least person who was happy to see me.

But almost immediately, things got strange. V treated me to an extensive listing of all her psychological and physical problems, claimed she had been horribly bullied during her orientation, and a number of other things that made me quite uncomfortable. She began following me everywhere, insisting she eat her meals with me and once tracking me down in a friend’s room and screaming at me because she thought I was “off getting drunk somewhere.”

Soon V began having what she describes as panic attacks, where she would spend 20-30 minutes at a time on the floor shaking and whimpering. Several times I stayed up late holding her hand. The attack happened several times a week.

Things got progressively worse. V began claiming that people were writing her hate messages on our door (no one saw them but her), that she had an eating disorder, that she had terrible insomnia and severe narcolepsy at the same time. She would routinely collapse on the floor and talk to herself when I had visitors. She once hit her head and started hallucinating, but was sent back from the ER after an hour with no concussion bracelet (strange since she said her concussion was severe.) She told me she had a second personality and once she even hid under her bed for most of two days. There are too many bizarre stories to list them all.

On top of all this, V had been telling all of her other friends that I was a horrible person, telling lies about how I yelled at and ignored her, and was generally abusive. During all of this. she continued to cling to me. If I got upset at all the drama she caused, she would cry and yell at me for not realizing “how hard this was for her.”

The final straw was when she told a bunch of her friends that she was planning to commit suicide. The dean asked her to leave at Thanskgiving and not come back (yes, this all took place in less than a semester).

I genuinely do feel bad for her; she clearly needed help and was not ready for college life, but I can’t help but resent the way she effectively ruined my freshman year. I am now a psychology major, and convinced that although some of them were legitimate, most of V’s problems were mostly invented in order to draw attention. Living with her was an absolutely unbelievable experience.

My very first roommate seemed nice enough initially: a homely, overly-friendly, family-oriented girl. However, as the semester dragged on, little annoying habits of hers began to surface. And within a month, she became nothing short of infuriating. Her obsession with Easy Mac and, for lack of a better word, hobbit feet (black on the bottom and covered in hair) ensured that the room always smelled like feet and cheese, no matter how long I kept the window open or how many air fresheners I bought.

She also had a rather obnoxious routine with her alarm clock in the morning. She would set her alarm for two hours before she had to actually get up, and then instead of just turning it off, repeatedly hit the snooze button. So the alarm would go off every ten minutes for an hour until she actually got up. She had no problem falling asleep between alarms, but I had to eventually buy ear plugs to avoid strangling her with the cord for her alarm clock.

The ear plugs also ended up serving another purpose. As soon as I would walk into my room, I had to put my ear plugs in, because my roommate and her friend would spend hours every day recording themselves singing tunes from Disney movies and putting them on YouTube.

We had several fights throughout the course of the semester. Every time we would get into an argument, her way of apologizing would be to clean my half of the room. She would make my bed, fold my clothes (including my underwear) and leave a page-long apology note on my pillow. As if the fact that this girl was handling my lingerie didn’t creep me out enough.

And if all of that isn’t enough, here’s the real kicker. My roommate was, and still is to this day, convinced that she is a demon. She would have seizure-like episodes on her bed a few nights a week where she would twitch and mumble to herself and squirm around on the mattress. (She would only have these episodes when she was chatting on Skype with someone, usually a boy.)

I transferred out of the college after the first semester and have not talked to her since. The last I heard of her, she is working at Disney World. Because that’s what demons do, right?

In my senior year of college, my friends K and F, and I had a vacancy in our apartment that needed to be filled for our final semester. S appeared at first to be very pleasant and stable. She was very nice in conversation, as was her boyfriend who, she informed us, would be staying over quite a bit and we didn’t mind all that much. K and F were vegan and vegetarian, respectively, so it wasn’t all that big of a change for me to have S, another vegan, in the house. I separated all my meat and animal products onto one shelf of the fridge and everything was peachy. S was a fantastic cook and constantly made extra food that she then offered to us. Who could have asked for a more perfect roommate?

This is where the trouble began. I told everyone they could use my brand new cookware so long as they cleaned it afterward and didn’t wreck it. K and F had no problem doing this, but S, it seemed, had issues with cleaning up after herself. When she cooked, she left ingredients and crumbs strewn across all available counter space, as well as on the table where we sat to eat, and much of the floor too. After she was done cooking, she never cleaned up any of the mess she had made and never put away any of her expensive, organic ingredients, but made sure to tell us not to mess with those things, as they cost a lot of money and were hard to find in stores.

She made no attempt to wash cookware, particularly mine, onto which she had seared food or sauce and only upon being confronted did she make a halfhearted attempt at scrubbing (with a dry sponge without soap, because she didn’t “want to waste water” and she thought the soap we had bought was filled with “chemicals” and “toxins”). This lasted about a week per time that we had to tell her. She ended up completely wrecking my brand-new griddle and several stainless steel pots and pans, all of which had been given to me as preemptive graduation gifts by my parents. When F finally approached her about all of this directly, S just shrugged and said, “I just don’t really like cleaning.”

At one point, my boyfriend at the time, upon seeing our apartment, went into a cleaning frenzy and scrubbed down every surface in the kitchen. It took him three hours. We went to get groceries, which included some chicken breasts and ham, and put everything away in the fridge and cabinets before I took him out to a nice lunch. We returned, and to our surprise, we couldn’t find the chicken in the fridge. At the very back of the top shelf (where I kept my stuff), was a blue plastic bag with a Post-it note on it. Inside was the chicken. The Post-it note read, “Please cover up any meat you put in the fridge. I can’t stand looking at it. I know this is probably weird. Sorry. -S.” I asked K and F about it, both devoted to their dietary choices, and they both remarked that that was “really weird” and that they’d never heard of anyone asking something like that. Nevertheless, I covered all meat in the fridge for the rest of the semester so as to avoid getting into stupid fights.

As time went on, S became increasingly reclusive, verbally combative and messy. Every conversation became an opportunity for her to passive-aggressively lecture us on the evils of the internet, television, video games or any number of supposedly horrible chemicals that were in everything we used. She was holing up in her room along with all available glasses, bowls and silverware, which she refused to bring down or clean. At one point when she was away, I tiptoed my way into her room and around the half-eaten bowls of cereal and soup on the floor just to get a fork and a cup so I could eat my dinner. We later went back up as a group and took everything back downstairs and washed it.

By the end of the semester, her boyfriend was essentially a fifth roommate, despite both of them refusing to clean anything and being conveniently absent from the bi-weekly “clean the apartment” hour we had agreed to. Out of nowhere, they had what was apparently a very bad fight and broke up, and S decided she just needed to get out of town before the semester even ended. She grabbed her essentials and ran sobbing from the apartment to her car, leaving us to clean up everything else she had left behind so as not to get fined when our lease was up. But at least she was gone. The last I heard, another friend of mine was subletting from S and her boyfriend (they got back together), but under her apartment rules, there was absolutely no meat, no internet and no television allowed, even if my friend paid for it all herself. Several months later, she told my friend to “just get out” and forced her to move out with no forewarning or explanation.

My Very Worst Roommate was also my best friend from high school. I was a pretty sheltered and passive person, so I attracted controlling personalities. She had one for sure. She had a pretty messed up family, but I didn’t know the half of it until we moved in together. We moved into a pretty nice dorm room that had its own bathroom. She had family in the area, so she got there early and claimed all the space she wanted. There were two wardrobes but only one dresser, so she took the entire dresser. She had her entire half of the room decorated by the time I arrived.

None of this was too bad, but I also discovered that she only showered about once a week. She did not shave the tops of her feet, so there was a huge patch of hair there. She had this really long, really thick hair that really did only need to be washed about once a week, but she didn’t take a shower unless she was washing her hair. She would let it get to the point where her hair was itchy and smelly. If she wore makeup one day or evening, she would just wipe it off with a washcloth (liquid foundation).

As I said, she had a very controlling personality. She thought it was OK for her to have a boyfriend, but not me because then I wasn’t available to meet her every need. She told my mom that my boyfriend hit me (he didn’t). She complained endlessly about my boyfriend (who’s now my husband) to our other friends, my mom, her mom, her boyfriend and really anyone who would listen. Before I met my boyfriend, she set me up with this weird friend of her boyfriend’s who had been utterly destroyed by his previous break-up. Also, she had a tendency to only date guys of a different religious persuasion than she was. Two examples were the Mormon and the Jehovah’s Witness dudes she dated. She disagreed with both religions and tried to get both of them to promise they would quit those religions.

We lived together for one year and then I moved in with another high school friend who was also pretty damaged, but by then, I was mostly living with my boyfriend so it didn’t matter. I never had a roommate again!