As a high schooler, I always imagined going to college and getting paired up with an awesome roommate who would be my best friend. We would stay up late talking all through the night, share clothes, help each other on homework, and spend Friday nights getting ready to go out together. TV shows always made it seem like that random person you lived with freshman year would naturally become your best friend.
I learned my freshman year that TV had it totally wrong. I spent my first year in college living with the roommate from hell, a self-centered, appearance-obsessed girl from the Hamptons. She was an only child, which explained why she had no idea how to share a space with someone. She would blow dry her hair in the room while I was sleeping, leave the TV on during the night, bring her loud friends into the room at all hours of the day, and keep trash lying around on my side of the room.
One time she left a pair of dirty brown granny panties on my side of the room and claimed they were mine. AS IF. For how much money this girl spent on her designer clothing, her underwear was straight from Costco. The poop brown granny panties were not mine.
So thanks to my freshman year roommate, I missed out on all of the fun things that roommates do together. I never did get that chance to do a closet swap…
And then last night happened. My roommate this year, who is the roommate from heaven, decided that she wanted to go out for the first time in months. She and I hadn’t had a night out together since Halloween last year, so we wanted to celebrate big. I put on a playlist of dance music freshly downloaded to my iTunes as we did our makeup and hair. Our friends came over to hang out and join the celebration. The night was starting off on the right foot.
Right before we left, my roommate declared she didn’t have any shoes to wear, and I was like, “THIS IS MY CHANCE TO BE THE ROOMMATE I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE.” So because I’m a great person, I offered my roommate my favorite pair of black boots, and she was delighted to wear them. They looked great on her, and I couldn’t have been more flattered that someone actually wanted to wear my shoes! When people want to borrow your clothes, you feel like you’ve got a celebrity wardrobe, and it’s a huge ego boost. The fact that my roommate loved my shoes just made my night.
But I wasn’t feeling quite as thrilled when an hour later, my roommate threw up. All over my shoes. My favorite shoes. When this happened, she just so happened to be standing near my evil roommate from last year, and I just wanted to tell my current roommate, “Why couldn’t you have thrown up on her instead?”
My roommate spent the night throwing up in various places, including someone’s couch and another person’s wall. She almost threw up on a car and my boyfriend as well. I got her back to our room and in bed by midnight, which was really late considering how much damage she’d done to people’s apartments in the hour she’d been out.
When we woke up this morning, she was all cheery and bubbly. “I’m feeling great!” she chimed. “I’m not hungover at all!” Meanwhile I suffered from a crippling headache and a burning desire to spend the rest of my day in bed. She was the one who threw up on my shoes, and I still ended up with the headache. Life is not fair at all.
Almost 24 hours after the incident, I have yet to clean my shoes. I would throw them out, but dammit – they’re my favorite shoes, and I’m not parting with them. Am I an asshole if I make my roommate clean them for me?
I learned last night that taking care of your drunk friend has negative rewards. I wasted $5 on a party which I attended for 5 minutes, and I missed my opportunity to take revenge on my despicable freshman year roommate. I’m kidding on that last part, by the way. Sort of.
33 Degrees 