The Bitchy Roommate

My recent homelife woes remind me that all adults should live as God intended them to -- without roommates. The only word that can accurately describe my current roommate's recent behavior is "bitchy." Bitchy as in: I can't possibly stand to live with this woman anymore. Bitchy as in: Fuck you, dear roommate. Fuck you. Hard. And, dry. With a gonorrhea-encrusted dildo. I'll spare you all of the gory details of our sordid life together. Suffice it to say that I’ve started looking for another apartment. I have had several stints living on my own. In fact, the years that I’ve lived with roommates are probably equal in number to the number of years that I’ve lived by myself. I prefer the latter. My current roommate is just one of the many wackos with whom I’ve lived thoroughout the years including: Rachel, who sang John Secada’s “I Believe in Love” every morning, off-key, either for pleasure or to torture me (I never figured out which); Tina, a woman who spent the months prior to moving in living, unbeknownst to me, under lock and key in an actual “Nut House” (I threw her out after I wake in the middle of one night to find her staring at me and pointing to her bleeding wrist -- a botched suicide attempt); Sarah, Faith, Maria, Rosarita and Conchika in Los Angeles (... this is when I became the butt of the university’s cruel joke and discovered that their idea of a “triple” was: 6 women sharing a 2-bedroom apartment, 3 occupants per room). Then there was: Sheryl, also in Los Angeles, a woman who cursed me for using her hand towels to dry water from my hands (“Did you use this again?” she asked accusingly as she eyed the hand towel with little elephants embroidered on the front. “It’s for decoration dammit!”); in England, Victoria, a lovely 50-something woman who bird watched all day and Ian, a not-as-lovely 40-something Scotsman, who fervently attempted to convert me to the Baha'i Faith; and Marijke, a chain-smoking Dutch woman who painted images of naked women on the bare walls of our Amsterdam canal house and wore the same outfit for 3 weeks at a time. Of course, some roommates were better than others. Some were worse. But, by far, the absolutely worst situations of all have been the instances when I’ve lived with more than one woman at a time. Awful. I’ve never seen Hell, but I’m convinced that it’s a place filled with several women that live together under the one roof. Share your roommate horror stories if you wish …