My roommate and I get along well.
My former roommate and I do not.
It wasn’t always like this. Our first week together was great.
It all started when my mom bought me a box of name brand strawberry Poptarts. I already had a box of the WalMart version, and I had opened the box of it. I was saving those beautiful name brand tarts for a special day. Like Sunday. A sacred treat for a holy day.
Well, I got up Sunday, climbed up to my top shelf, and got down my real Poptarts, which were surprisingly light. I realized the box was open, so I looked inside…and it was empty.
Now, I don’t sleep eat, and nobody had asked me if they could have one of my Poptarts, much less ALL of my poptarts.
Now, I’ll paraphrase my “favorite” stories from freshman year.
- The time I walked in and her friend was sitting (with her shoes still on) on my bed with her computer on top of mine, using my ethernet chord.
- The time my mom sent me a pack of kitkats and I didn’t get to eat any because her friend was craving chocolate and she “knew I wouldn’t mind” if she gave them to her.
- The time I wasn’t in the dorm by 10:30, and she texted me to say, “Not trying to be your mom, but you need to go to bed because you have a 7:30 class in the morning.”
- The time I forgot my key and I asked her if she was in the room, and she replied with, “Am I being sexiled?”
- Each time I’d go home for break and she’d tell me to not get pregnant.
- The time I pulled off a large scab and tried to show her. I won’t lie, I did it because I knew she’d freak out. Also, it was seriously a tight scab. Look!
- Any time I’d come back to the room after hanging out at RFC, she would say, “I’m not judging.” (I never believed that.) Eventually, “If you keep going to RFC like every night, you’re going to get burnt out on God,” followed.
- The time I walked in on her using my toenail clippers and my tweezer.
- The times she’d ask if I had brushed my teeth that night. My breath must have smelled terrible if she could smell it all the way across the room.
- The time she blocked me from facebook when my family got upset with her for calling my brother “whiney.”
Now, I am not saying that my former roommate was terrible, and I’m not saying I was perfect either. She didn’t do “bad” stuff and she never puked on my art projects. But she pushed me around for a year, and I always wanted to tell my readers these stories, because looking back, I think they are hilarious!