How to Have An Insane Roommate
Need someone to move into the second bedroom in your shabby chic apartment ASAP. Resort to Craiglist and make the following ad:
26-year-old young female professional seeks roommate to move in to my adorable spacious apartment ASAP! A little about me: I’m low-maintenance, fun to be around and only a psycho bitch a few days a month (Just kidding. That was just a little Craiglist humor. Don’t be scared.) You should fit the following criteria: full-time job, easygoing, not insane, and clean. An added bonus if you enjoy margaritas and are open to the concept of Taco Tuesdays. Pics are attached. Let me know!
Field many responses from people who live in China, 58-year-old men looking for a certain kind of arrangement and vegans. For a moment, feel dejected and hopeless. Then seemingly on cue, receive an e-mail from a girl named Maeghan—a 24-year-old recent UCLA graduate who seems normal enough. You immediately check her Facebook page and find nothing too offensive. There are photos of her getting drunk and making weird faces in questionable outfits, but that’s the norm these days. Schedule a meeting at your apartment.
She comes to your apartment in workout clothes explaining that she just came from ice skating practice. “I used to train professionally, but I took a break and now I’m fixin’ to get back into it.” Think of this as a good sign. She has goals, which must mean she’s a functioning person of society. Great! The interviewing process is obviously awkward. You’re both trying to come off as sane, but in the end, it’s just a bunch of nervous laughter and fidgeting. Whatever. You can’t cover next month’s rent by yourself so have her move in and just hope for the best.
The first few weeks are great. You’re getting to know each other and everything seems so fresh and fun. You even have a “roomie bonding” night, which involves drinking too many margaritas and talking about shitty ex-boyfriends. “I’m really glad this worked out,” You slur to her after ingesting the second pitcher. “I have to admit I was a little apprehensive that this could be like Single White Female, but I can tell it won’t be.” “Oh my god, trust me. I’m not gonna go crazy on you,” Maeghan clutches your hand from across the table. “I like you too and if you ever have a problem with me, let’s talk about it. I’m all about communication.” You hug and skip off together in the drunken night. Roomies 4EVER.
After a few months of living together, cracks begin to develop in the beautiful roomie picture. One day, Maeghan comes home from ice skating practice complaining of being charged $15.00 for an iced mocha. “Um, no you weren’t,” You respond. “Iced mochas are like $4.00.” She’s adamant about the pricing though and the lie just seems too bizarre to fight so you drop it. The next day, you go to the cafe Maeghan was talking about and find out they charge $5.75 for a large. Walk away from the experience feeling sufficiently weirded out.
Create a stupid voicemail message that tricks the caller into believing they’ve reached you. “Hello? Hello? Can’t hear you.” You know it’s lame, but you were waiting for a friend to pick you up for lunch and needed a way to kill time. A month later, try reaching your roommate and discover, to your shock and horror, that they’ve recorded the same exact prank voicemail on their machine. Again, this is too strange to bring up. There’s no way to ask, “Um, why did you copy my voicemail message?” without looking like a petty asshole. But still. That’s weird, right?
Your friends don’t like her. “Never trust anyone who spells Megan with an extra ‘a’ and ‘h’. She’s a freak on a leash.” This is a valid point, but still feel guilty. She may lie about the price of iced mochas and steal your voicemail ideas, but she’s super sweet. She’s like a little puppy dog who needs a hug…all the time. You feel bad for her.
Start to question everything that comes out of her mouth. When she mentions having had a national rank as an ice skater when she was younger, tell her that you want to see it. Watch her stiffen up and be like, “Oh, I have the paper at my mom’s house.” LIAR LIAR ICE SKATER LIAR. WHY MUST YOU LIE ABOUT SUCH INCONSEQUENTIAL THINGS? Tell her that you would love to see the paper one day.
Have your “About me” on Facebook read: I like pad thai, los angeles, boys who treat me like shit, and dinner parties.” One day, lurk your roommate’s Facebook and discover she has changed her “About me” to: I like pad see ew, el ay, jerky boys, and dinner parties.” OH MY GOD. She has stolen your Facebook identity AKA the essence of who you truly are. This must stop.
Whenever Maeghan speaks to you, tune her out and just think, “That’s a lie. You terrify me. Why are you lying about the traffic at Whole Foods today? There’s never any traffic at Whole Foods, you psychotic crazy person!”
In lieu of having any confrontation, just become very passive agressive towards her. After noticing she has taken your last egg, be like, “Hey Maeghan. Did you eat my last egg? I seriously don’t care. I was just wondering. Like I wanted it really badly, but it’s no big deal.” Watch your roommate apologize profusely and start to feel guilty. Remember that she’s not a bad person. Her lies aren’t malicious and she’s not mean. She’s just mentally unstable.
Realize that having any conversation with Maeghan about her overall creepy behavior is pointless because she’s delusional enough to believe her own lies. Maybe she did pay $15.00 for an iced mocha. Maybe she did have a national rank as an ice skater. I mean, she didn’t. But she did, you know? Figure the best way out of this situation is to move out when the lease is up and never speak to her again. Move into a studio apartment. Ignore her Facebook messages. Change your voicemail and Facebook. Just Ctrl+Alt+Delete the entire experience. Bye Maeghan!
You should follow Thought Catalog on Twitter here.
A | A | A
Kush got me selfie o’clock twitpic.com/ff3880
Don’t kill anybody. There might be a time in your 20s when you encounter a situation where you’re like, man, I could totally get away with killing this person. Police wouldn’t have a motive. No one would ever know.
Having open, intimate conversations with someone where you’re able to openly talk about one another’s flaws without resorting to blaming or shaming is possibly the hardest thing to do in any relationship.
What does it even mean to be in love? Does anyone really know or is it just up to the individual to create their own idea of love?