Roommate Hell

It all seemed so unfair.

These were my college roommates, the best I could negotiate, from 1978-81:

-A Greek guy with a mania for Brut cologne.
-A gay man who put lotion on his legs every night.
-A redshirt football player who was an all right kinda guy.
-A group of mellow deadhead/artists.
-A house full of facists who proved to be my judge, jury and executioner.
-A black stand-up comic who liked to break his spaghetti in half before boiling it.
-Myself, who I ultimately preferred.

If you have a “Roommate from Hell” tale, please post your stories and comments. Please, no names!

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8 Responses to “Roommate Hell”

  1. savages Says:

    I break my spaghetti in half before boiling it, but then I don’t have roommates anymore. Yeah!

    – A stressed guy with two jobs and a girlfriend that just hung out with us, but didn’t pay rent.
    – A tone deaf computer guru who liked to sing the Titanic theme song, drank Super Big Gulps everyday and dropped his pocket change on the floor anywhere throughout the apartment.
    – A group of mellow deadheads.

  2. hglucky Says:

    While I was at RISD (-overlapping years with Orrin) I had two roommates from hell..

    –A hippy-like girl who was a painting major that was responsible for setting our apartment on fire after not properly disposing of her painting materials…..

    –A Jewish American Princess who put labels on all of “her” food, including the butter dish… She once caught me putting “her” butter on my toast. I was waiting for this moment, and gave her 14¢ to cover the cost. She took the money.

    I’m with you Jerry, I’m my own best roommate, although I wish I had better housekeeping skills.


  3. Alan Says:

    Roomates? Well,
    –I stayed at a friends parent’s house for about a year, in their spare bedroom and that was alright, but I wasn’t allowed to have girls over in my bedroom. Yes, that’s how pathetic my dating life was. Took me a year to find out that rule.
    –Lived with that girl whom I couldn’t have over for a few months. She never paid rent, but always promised to pay me. She owes me about $3,000. I remember hearing about a female coworker who paid her roommate with sex. (once a month) I wish my roommate had thought of that. I’d still be out $3k, but much happier about it.
    –The next roommate I married, so I guess she’ll do.

  4. Billy Says:

    I had always imagined my first sexual experience to be a scene from 9 _ Weeks, only with a fellow greenhorn.

    The original movie trailer bragged, “They broke every rule.” I liked that idea.

    Yeah, that was me: Man sees woman. Woman sees man. Instant sexual attraction. Man plays head games and controls the woman…

    And then there’s that whole sex in the kitchen with the strawberries-thing. Yeah, that was me. THAT is what I imagined.

    My roommate at the time I was about to become a “real man” was a medical student at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. We’ll call him “Brad.”

    He was not only a Med student, he was also an experienced “deed-doer” and drug addict. Very few were the weekend nights he didn’t de-flower someone, or some-thing, as the case sometimes would be.

    I told him of my plan: “After the party, we’re gonna go back to her place, and we’ll do it.”

    After a few high-fives and a hug, Brad told me a “secret.” He said that he had some cough medicine containing acetaminophen and hydrocodone, and that I should take a few Tablespoons a couple of hours before intercourse.

    Brad was so funny. He was one of the most “normal” people I had ever met, but he sometimes found it difficult to remove himself from “doctor lingo.” Not that “intercourse” is a doctor’s word per se, but it had been my experience that most 25-year-olds used the “f-word,” or “screw,” or “monkey-dance,” or “poling” to describe sexual relations. Not Doctor Brad.

    He said that the “elixir” would take away all of my nervousness and allow me to “please the young lady for hours and hours, by allowing you to stay engorged for much longer than normal.”

    On the way back to her place we made a stop at my house. Brad had left me two, 2 ounce bottles of cough medicine on my bedside table. I drank them both.

    So, the scene was set: I took down my elixir and prepared to enter a state of prolonged bliss. But our arrival at her apartment was too soon. I didn’t feel anything. On the contrary… I felt EVERYTHING. Neither of us said a word. I was ready to flee the scene and plead ignorance, but my Kim Basinger knew exactly what she was doing.

    My thoughts were not at all in the moment. I was projecting a few minutes into the future. I would be “different” then. I would no longer feel uncomfortable in locker rooms and at poker games. I was about to be different… the SAME.

    “Yeah, I know what you mean,” I’d be able to say, “The other night I was bangin’ this chick and it was just like a scene from 9 _ Weeks…”


    I am not prepared to go into the story as it really happened that night, but I will say that I should have opted for a piece of chewing gum. I have never forgiven Dr. Brad for giving me my “medicine.”

    You guessed it… No boom.

    Now I did get the boom back the next day… indeed, several times. It was like the Fourth of July, really. But I do not think I will ever get over the look on my sweet soon-to-be wife’s face as she asked, “Where’d it go?”

    Nightmares sometimes come true. Doctors and scientists call it temporary tunicae dysfunction, or erectile dysfunction. I call it the single worst moment of my life. These “doctors” promise that most men experience this inability at some point in their lives, and that “we” are not psychologically affected by it.

    I hate doctors.

    Turns out the cough syrup was liquid Lortab. Lortab is a pain killer. This particular form of the pain killer is meant for individuals suffering from Emphysema. It made my willy fall asleep.

    Brad was addicted to the stuff. I’ll never touch it again.

    Bygones? Nope.

  5. Sporty Says:

    Wow! Billy sounds like a roommate from hell. Wouldn’t want to be trapped in the living room while he was telling a story.

  6. Eli Says:

    I was 24 living in a house with two girls and we were interviewing a third guy roommate. We all agreed if any one of us did not like the person we interviewed, they would not be invited in to the house. This kid was 18, never lived outside his parents house before. No job. And really just urked me the wrong way. The two girls I lived with had relatives near by they could stay with if they wanted. I didn’t. I came home after a loooong day at work in the city. He had a bunch of his friends over (ages 15 – 20). A party if you will. He said he asked the girls – and they said they’d stay at their relatives places. He didn’t ask me. But I thought I didn’t mind too much. Some of his friends were cute. Until I walked in my room to find a 17 year old kid drunk on MY bed. And his girlfriend PUKING in MY bathroom. I put my notice in the next day and have lived happily by myself in the city for the last 4 years…

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  8. Amy Says:

    What is wrong with breaking spaghetti in half to cook it? Is that weird? Fits in the pot better and easier to eat…