She smelled exactly like a foot.
The sort of vinegary, spicy smell that feet can have if they’ve been in sweaty shoes for far too long—she smelled exactly like that.
Other than that she was lovely but never cleaned her dishes, but that’s a given in about 50% of roommates.
One of my former college roommates was a little gay Mexican kid, and I mean all of that literally. He was pretty flamboyant and I’ve overheard him tell his friends about his sexual fantasies. That’s all I really knew about him. We didn’t talk much, except he said, “I should be back soon,” every time he left the house. I was watching a movie late at night. He comes downstairs, and says, “I should be back soon,” and leaves.
About an hour later he barges through the door, weeping and sobbing uncontrollably. It looked like he got beat up and pushed on the ground and covered in mud. He stands in the doorway just crying and barely breathing and then runs to the bathroom. I hear him cry in the shower for about 20 minutes. He finally comes out and starts the first conversation he’s ever had with me.
I-I met this guy online…and I went to go hook up with him in his truck. Wh-wh-when he was fucking me in the ass, I POOPED ALL OVER HIMMMM *sob *sniffle.
I honestly didn’t know what to do. So said what I normally say when people tell me about bad things that happen to them,
“Wow, that’s really shitty.”
He laughed a lot and went to bed. That was the first and only conversation we’ve ever had.