My orientation/summer semester roommate was an anime/mild video game nerd (she played WoW, but that was it). She told me from day one that she wasn’t too big on drama or “fake hanging out group time”, that she liked to veg. Cool, I thought – we’re going to get along great. Since our program had us placed with identical schedules, studying was going to be a breeze.
The program was five weeks long. The first week went great – we hung out, shared notes, studied together. We cracked geeky jokes, commented on the vanity of some of our classmates, and watched bad ghost hunting tv shows. All was well. But after a week and a half I began to realize that our personalities were a little too well matched – you see, my roommate never left the room. Ever. We went out to dinner one night and lingered for half an hour every few days to get coffee on campus, but beyond that, she was pretty much a potted plant in the dorm room. No amount of coaxing or invitation from myself or our friends got her to go out.
After a while I began to feel the frustration of pent-up sexual energy. She was a light sleeper, and even stealthy masturbation was usually enough to wake her up. I tried in the shower, but being a not-so-crafty female, that usually didn’t lead to much success, and doing it in the dorm showers was not exactly my idea of a private setting. My only hope was to get this girl out of the room for any amount of time, but it was as if the girl was a sadist. Showers? Five minutes, like lightning. Bathroom trips? Usually three minutes. Food? Only went when I went – otherwise, she ate from the boxes of food she’d brought with her. Studying sessions? Again, only went out when I did – otherwise, she studied alone or with me in the room.
Finally, a friend and I plotted a master conspiracy to get her out. He was going to drag her to sushi for dinner, even if it involved her kicking and screaming, and I was going to pretend have a study session with one of my friends in the room (she did not like this person). Everything was set until the morning of the day we’d planned to get her out. In one of our classes, we watched a video on sexual assault and sociology. Our teacher made it very clear to us (in an almost uncomfortable way) that students who were bothered by the content in the video were free to walk out to take a minute and that there were on-campus support groups. Sure enough, during a five-minute mid-class break (it was a 3-hour class), she turns to my friend and I and admits that she almost started crying. She then nonchalantly comments to me that she “wonder[s] if there are any support groups on campus”. She then gets up to quietly speak with our professor. In other words, she’d just informed me (all but explicitly) that she was a sexual assault victim.
This whole time I’d thought my roommate was sadistic and didn’t understand blatant hints about needing “personal time”, it turned out that I was with an assault victim who was terrified of being around people she didn’t intimately trust.
Needless to say, I wound up going the entire semester without a single successful schlick, and my morality guilt tripped me the entire time about being bitter to her about it.