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Friday, December 9, 2011

My Life with the Housemates from Hell

 If only this story was about one of the above...

Well, I'm back! This post has been long in the thinking, planning, and writing, but now I can (at last) reveal it. As of today I have finally moved in with my girlfriend. [Pauses for applause.] Thank you, thank you. And since I am no longer interested in "keeping the peace" with my housemates for fear of any reprisal against my stuff, my deposit, or my person, I will now tell ya'll a story that will surely make you glad to be you -- and not me.

[Author's note: post contains strong language. Certain details have been altered to protect privacy, and prevent lawsuits.]

Let's begin with my housemate and friend, Jane. She is one of those yuppie-types who dances along the edge between New-Age, Hipster, and Hollywood wannabe. It is her belief that nose-jobs are a necessity for Armenian women, that new shoes and vintage clothing are the only acceptable forms of fashion, and that her personal astrologist can accurately predict everything that will happen in her life, from problems at the tea house she works at, to the men she meets. To call her shallow would be an understatement, but she was always nice to me, if a little ditzy and immature (despite being 4 years older than me). More importantly, she was also capable of having fun, speaking in bad Spanish, joking about a Jewish holocaust versus an Armenian genocide, and swapping relationship stories.

Then enters Dick. A self-described "alpha male", he thinks of himself as a "guy, a real guy, not a San Francisco guy", who goes "all out" on everything. In reality he is a Skeletor-looking fake-ass Buddhist who attempts to utilize PUA tactics to manipulate women in his Yoga classes. His skull is consistently shiny with a pulsing vein coursing from his forehead to his nose-bridge. Dick enjoys one-upping other people with experiences he's had as a result of a privileged life, including his time spent in a monastery for eight years! (I find this ironic, a la Arnie, from the movie Anger Management.) Yet Dick also likes to shoot guns, take recreational drugs -- speed, ecstasy, meth -- wear women's panties during sex, and act like a bad caricature of a mid-life crisis. Case in point: he recently turned forty, and then acquired two motorcycles that look like they were taken from the set of Easy Rider.

Now, after the fiasco of our last housemate Sam. (Alcoholic, broke, and being sued by his baby mama who he knocked up twice!) I was eager to find someone older, stable, and extremely chill to move in. Jane offered her boyfriend Dick as a possible replacement, at his suggestion. At first I was unsure. I'd heard a lot about Dick from Jane, and felt he was a shady person.

For instance, he had proved himself unable to properly use contraceptives because he and Jane somehow managed the extremely difficult task of getting her pregnant despite both of them being educated on condom use and birth-control. (Jane subsequently got an abortion.) They had also taken a "break" not too recently, where Dick fucked one of his Yoga students, prompting Jane to retaliate after they'd gotten back together by making-out with a friend of her bestie's husband's at a random party in The Mission. Dick had also been recently fired from his last teaching job following allegations by a Black student that he had used the N-word in class, calling the student by that slur. (According to Dick it never happened, but I'm not so sure, since the school felt it appropriate to fire him.)

Yet, despite these red-flags, I acquiesced to Jane's suggestion that Dick move in. On the surface he had a significant amount of savings, a jovial personality, and a chill vibe in regards to living situations that convinced me to agree to allow him to move in. At the least, I thought he'd be better than our last housemate.


Faster than you can say, "excuse me?" Dick had begun to display openly irrational, passive-aggressive, and douchey behaviors. It started with small things, like placing extremely expensive/fragile things in the common-areas while saying not to use/disturb them, and him playing extremely loud electro-house music early in the morning.

I remember one particularly annoying instance with an off-hand request that he return one of the lamps to the living-room at his earliest convenience so I could see in there at night. Dick stormed out of his room, gripping the lamp, and threw it down on the floor to plug it in; the whole time acting passive-aggressive, angry, resentful, and making snide comments.

At that, my girlfriend (who was staying over at the time) and I left the apartment to give Dick a little space while we grabbed some Taco Bell. En route I got a text-message from Jane asking why I was being "territorial" and hostile to Dick. I could only think, seriously? How the hell is asking for the living-room lamp to be put back when you're doing using it somehow territorial?

When we got back, Dick, Jane and I had a conversation regarding the incident whereupon it was revealed -- though conspicuously without any official apology or contrite recognition -- that Dick had overreacted, Jane had leapt to his defense without thinking, and they promised to act as housemates first, and ignore the fact that Dick and Jane were a couple when dealing with house-issues.



Almost immediately following this conversation there were two instances where they broke that promise. The first time during a fight between Jane & I about my not cleaning up after her messes where she invoked Dick's name as back-up without his knowledge or consent, and he got pissed. The second happened exactly the same, except it was Dick invoking Jane's name. Like a hypocrite. But of course she justified it somehow, and didn't even call him out on it. (Oh, but I did. To her discomfort.)

His behavior started to deteriorate as the days turned into weeks. Suddenly he was abusive to Jane's cat -- to the point that I wondered whether I should call the ASPCA. He started taking over the house, hanging rows of hats to rival the Mad Hatter in our hallway, placing terrible photos he'd taken of ruins in the living-room and dining-room, and even demanding that he be given non-negotiable use of the living-room on Monday nights to hold private Yoga sessions. All of this he did without asking me, or even informing me until it had already happened. Shoot, even Jane, who I thought was my friend, didn't seem to bother sending a text-message of advance notice!

Yet through it all I remained calm, chill. Didn't make a fuss. Didn't freak out. Didn't make a big deal out of his ignorance or behavior.

Why? Because these things in isolation were hardly cause to throw a hissy fit, even if Dick would, I'm simply not that kind of person. Oh, but how I regret that now. I should've seen everything taken as a whole and shut it down before it got out of hand, instead of simply reacting to each new problem, and being so damn chill about it!

For example, I should've said something when Dick randomly one day told me he had been growing -- illegally growing -- black mold in the house for a friend of his. Black mold? BLACK MOLD? This little fungi causes respiratory problems, and even death if left untreated. And this douche was growing it in our home!? Thanks for the heads-up, asshole!

I should've said something when his experiments left terrible smells in the kitchen to the point that I couldn't cook for days at a time.

Or when he bought those Easy-Rider lookalike motorcycles in some crazy midlife crisis moment and asked to use the garage for a weekend to fix them up. That weekend turned into 4 months. I never got to park my car in the garage again. In fact, I never got to use the garage again period. He literally sucked up every inch of space like some alien sponge.

I should've said something when he started throwing away my food in the fridge because he thought it was "going bad". It was "going bad" because I couldn't cook because of his nasty smelling science experiments growing black mold, which is what he was smelling -- not my food.

I should've said something when that damn Cleaning List was announced. Oh, that fucking Cleaning List! Why did I agree to it? Why did I even consider it?


See, I'm a very clean and minimal person. I rarely make a dent in the places I live. Up until this point I had been doing the majority of the cleaning, for Jane, her cat, and other housemates. Yet I didn't freak out or hold in a bunch of resentment . Nope, I just accepted that I had different standards of cleanliness than other people.

But Dick, he somehow managed to make even Howard Hughes seem like a slob. I swear this guy vacuumed at least once a day. Despite dating a girl with a very hairy cat who sheds a lot, he sure seemed to hold a deep-seated grudge against cat-hair. (Admittedly, the cat did shed quite a lot. It accounted for most of the cleaning done in the apartment.) Shoot, he even managed to bully Jane into cleaning, all of a sudden, quite contrary to her usual sloppy nature punctuated by frenzied moments of cleaning when she realizes what a mess she's made.

So suddenly I was doing less cleaning. It was nice, for a change, to no long have to pick up after anyone but myself.

However, this apparently greatly upset Dick. Infuriated him. Said I wasn't doing my part, wasn't helping out around the house. Because to Dick, helping out means cleaning up after other people instead of myself. Go figure. I guess at forty he hadn't quite learned a few adult lessons about cleanliness -- among other things.

And so the Cleaning List was born. We sat down and I agreed to give it a try. There were columns for chores, and rows for days of the week. It was rotational, and seemingly fair. However, it quickly became apparent to me that I inevitably ended up cleaning the messes of my housemates, because I was often too busy to be home much to make a mess anywhere except my bedroom. I cleaned as I went when I was at home, and as such rarely left a mess after I finished using any of the common areas.

So I stopped following the list and told them I'd like to go back to everyone cleaning up after themselves. They accused me of being selfish, lazy, blah blah blah. It was confusing. How is cleaning up after myself lazy? Aren't they being lazy by expecting me to clean up after them??

This was just the tip of the iceberg though. What happened next brought this whole shaky existence crashing down.

We had this neighbor. An elderly neighbor. Him and his wife owned a dog, a very loud dog. It liked to bark in the morning at the squirrels running along the power-lines. Now, after having lived there for a few years I was used to it and generally slept thru it. But Dick is something of a wishy-washy sleeper, I guess, because one morning at around 8 or 9 AM, he starts yelling at the dog. Obviously this doesn't work. More importantly, it's pretty damn hypocritical to get angry at a barking dog in the morning when you regularly play electro-house-trance-whatever music at the same hour yourself during the week.

And here I am, tucked into my sheets like a very sleepy burrito, when Dick yells, "Shut up your damn dog before I shoot it!" He yelled this a couple of times, getting really angry and fervent. I groan, and roll back to sleep.

Sometime around noon I'm chilling at the house on my day off before a weekly open-mic I host when the doorbell rings. I head down the steps to answer it, and turns out it's the elderly neighbor who's dog Dick threatened to shoot and/or kill. He's come on behalf of his equally elderly wife who is frightened out of her mind because she's worried someone is going to come barging through the door to shoot her dog, and possibly rape then kill her. (I know, she's a little sensitive.)

What made the situation all the more annoying was that this neighbor had called the cops in relation to this incident. It was at that point where my friendly behavior turned evasive, knowing who had actually done the deed but wary of getting my housemate in trouble with The Law.

Unfortunately he'd already written down my address and told me that a police officer would be coming by later to inquire about the incident since he believed that this was the house where the threat had come from.

Now, I'm a typically law-abiding person. Minus a few speeding tickets I tend to keep my nose clean. So when the cops come by asking questions, I answer them quickly and with as much ambiguity as I can. No need to tell on anyone who might be pissed about it.

Naturally after the neighbor leaves I call Dick to inform him of what's happening. Phone keeps ringing and I leave a voicemail. I also leave a message with Jane. Later on Dick calls back, completely freaking out on the phone, yelling at me, trying to tell me how to talk with the police by refusing to answer the door, asking if I want him to go to prison. Seriously, the dude yelled, "DO YOU WANT ME TO GO TO PRISON? DO YOU WANT ME TO GO TO PRISON, ZEK?"


I mean, damn. Talk about irrational overreactions. People do not, as a rule, go to prison for yelling at a person's dogs. Also, as my housemate, of course I don't want him to go to prison -- besides the problem of the rent, he's also my other housemate, and friend's boyfriend.

Now, I'm also typically a mellow person, but being yelled at with condescension and dramatics from a dude who I just a did favor for by NOT telling the neighbor (or the cops, as it turned out) that he threatened to kill their dog is a bit too much for me. I snapped, and told him, "I WAS JUST TRYING TO DO YOU A FAVOR BUT IF YOU DON'T WANT MY HELP THEN GO TO HELL ASSHOLE." Then I hung up.

Meanwhile the doorbell rings and there's the cop. We talk, and he takes my statement. I said, quite plainly that I was asleep when I heard a voice yell out about the dog barking. I don't know who made the threat. I went back to sleep almost immediately after waking up.

But this cop, being a cop, seemed to find me suspicious and implied that he thought I was the one who'd yelled out. Kept dropping subtle hints. Told me if the dog was really a problem that there were certain steps that could be taken and then told me to make sure not to yell about the dog again. I told him I hadn't and then he left.

Isn't that just great? Dick makes another mess, and I'm left to -- nay, expected -- to clean it up.

Also meanwhile, I text Dick to assure his irrational ass of what I said to the cop, how he isn't going to prison, and that maybe next time he should be a little nicer when someone's trying to help him out of trouble that he caused himself. He texted me back that I was free and "encouraged" to move out as soon as possible.

I laughed, and told him that I would when I was ready, but until then he should probably avoid getting into anymore trouble.

He then texted me back, seething passive-aggressiveness, writing that since I hadn't signed any lease (I was a sub-tenant) he could technically just toss my stuff on the street and there wouldn't be a thing I could do about it.

I texted him back that it's illegal to do that (not that he could anyways, since he's also just a sub-tenant) and then told him that if he plans to make threats, should I then take preemptive action to protect my property? Meanwhile I went ahead and spoke with many housing authorities, the landlord, and the police and all assured me that Dick could not toss out my stuff, even without having signed a proper lease since I had proof of residency and California laws protect sub-tenants, particularly if they've lived in a place more than two years.

Unfortunately, out of concern for my stuff I canceled an important open-mic night that I was set to host, finding someone to guest-host in my place, and basically locked myself in my room texting & calling Jane asking her to account for all this insanity. She brushed it off, saying Dick was joking, blah blah blah. Said we'd talk about it later -- but then didn't show up home till 2 AM because she went out to a comedy show with Dick.

Basically she acted like a fucking cunt, and left me hanging. Left me holed up in my room like a post-apocalyptic survivor-victim, worried some psycho was going to try throwing away my saxophone.

At that point she stopped being my friend.


Dick & I didn't speak for the next few days. It was shaky in the apartment. One time, I left the house and had said "goodbye" to the cat, Megan, as is my habit literally every day. And Dick just happened to be walking around nearby. Later I got a text from Jane telling me not to be so childish and antagonize Dick by saying goodbye to Megan and not to him...

Huh??? Are these people for real? Did he really just get his panties in a twist and complain to Jane because I said goodbye to a cat, but not to him after the shit that he said?

A "talk" was scheduled for Monday-ish. Since Dick was unemployed, and since I worked late, this ended-up being on Tuesday.

What started out was a seemingly rational discussion between adults about how Dick did in fact threaten to kill the neighbor's dog, and his irrational behaviors stemmed from fear of being caught growing black mold, and that he's "a guy, a guy's guy, not a San Francisco guy, and when I'm pushed against a wall I just fight back all the way".

My only question was, what fucking wall? And my second only question is, why does your version of a real man look suspiciously like an asshole?

 But before we could even get to that part: first we had to have Dick turn off the recorder he was attempting to use to record the conversation as some kind of "assurance" that I'd be "honest"... What would I lie about? He was the one whose been acting crazy! But so it goes.

I threatened to leave the room and just let the shit sink unless he agreed not to illegally record my voice (which is true, in California you cannot knowingly and unknowingly record someone's voice without their permission).

Then we actually started talking, but somehow got side-tracked onto what was really bugging Dick. It was the damn Cleaning Chart from earlier. Apparently he felt I wasn't following it. And so he'd taken it UPON HIMSELF to do my chores for me -- and then decided he'd resent me for it, despite my never asking him to clean up after me, or do my work, or even telling me that he was doing my chores for me. (Although it did explain why I never had to clean much on my areas of the house.)

This would be a recurring pattern in the apartment up until I moved out. Dick likes to do huge cleaning binges very often. And resent people, apparently. I prefer to clean as I go, and generally do so on my schedule -- which is admittedly a vastly different schedule from Dick and Jane's. I also don't hold in resentment. I'm just not much of a Buddhist like Dick is, I guess.

And so inevitably, Dick would do my cleaning for me, thinking I wasn't going to do it -- not realizing that I would as soon as I could get home from work. Y'know, the place I go for many hours of the day to make money to pay the rent. Of which I paid the most. (I had the Master bedroom + a private bathroom.)

So the discussion derailed into minutiae about what's "clean" versus "not-clean" and ignored the very real threats Dick made, the very irrational behaviors he exhibited, and the extreme douchebaggery he regularly affected.

But whatever. Again, in a classic example of being a chill guy, I let the shit slide. I got over it, and went about my business. Even shook the dude's hand, looked him straight in the eyes and apologized for anything wrong I did. He shook my hand. Looked me in the eyes. And did not apologize for anything.


Anyhoo, life went on. Though we had agreed to give the cleaning list one more go, Dick apparently lost/forgot about it, and so his entire beef with me dissolved into a big pile of, what the fuck was the whole point of this shit then?

Dick was still unemployed, but luckily I was extremely busy working two jobs, volunteering as a open-mic host, going to school full-time, and trying to be a decent boyfriend. Such as it was, I rarely had to interact with the dude, and lucky it was for me too.

He began to get really mean to Jane. Started calling her a bitch, getting into fights with her friends, and generally making an ass out of himself with people. I can't tell you the times my girlfriend ended-up sharing her shoulder for Jane to cry on about Dick's bad behavior. Shoot, one time he just up and left the apartment -- didn't say where he was going. Didn't answer his phone. Just disappeared. Freaked Jane out real good.

But I tried to ignore it. For the love of peace under our roof, I ignored my better judgement and avoided giving Dick a Well and Necessary backhanded slap to his villainly bald noggin'. With that awkward vein constantly throbbing all the way down his forehead. *Shudder*

There were other memorable moments in our time together. Upon the occasion when Osama bin Laden, y'know, that mass murderer, was killed by US Navy SEALs, my girlfriend & I were watching everything on the news in the living-room. Jane had just got home and we were talking about it. People were celebrating in DC, and Dick comes out of his room, smiling with too much teeth, and he says in a fake-ass voice, "Yeah! So awesome! Y'know what I hope happens? I hope some of our troops get killed now."

And this person is supposedly a Buddhist who lived in a monastery for 8 years? Yeah, right. This wasn't a forty year-old man. This was a twelve year-old child in the body of a fake-tan Mohandas Gandhi.


Fast-forward to the nigh-present.

Dick & Jane had scheduled a MASSIVE party at the apartment. Some 50-60 people crammed into our lil' place.

Unfortunately they forgot to tell me about it.

Until the day of.

But since it was open-mic night, I thought, cool beans. No big deal. I'll be gone for most of the time. The girlfriend & I met up after for hot wings, trying to stay out for as long as possible to avoid crashing their party (we weren't invited -- already a slap in the face) and be respectful. But eventually it got too late and so we headed home, thinking we'd hang in my room and just watch movies on Netflix.

When we got to the apartment it was CRAZY. There was a rave room in the garage which looked more like a rape room, complete with a whipping post, neon-colors, and a fucking pool filled with plastic balls and only two dudes standing in there looking creepy. It looked like something the reincarnation of Buffalo Bill would've designed. Dick was hanging out in his typical attire, shirtless with too-tight leather pants, a fur-coat from the 70's hanging nearby, and big suspenders that randomly covered his nipples.

(Seriously, that was how he dressed when he partied. He favored really weird clothing -- Tommy Bahama shirts that were ten sizes too big, Chinchilla coats, Mad Hatter hats, extremely tight pants of all materials, and women's panties, as I mentioned.)

He greeted us awkwardly with a fake grin, and an obvious surprise/lack of enthusiasm. So we headed upstairs. The whole house was turned into party-central, complete with live DJ, big, big fucking speakers, lots of random lights, food, snacks, really tall dudes and very drunk girls. The girlfriend & I immediately went to my room. When I opened the door, instead of my room I saw our living room. All the furniture was stacked haphazardly all over, to the point that we could hardly sit down.

I'll admit, I got really pissed. Nobody had asked me if this was cool. Nobody said, "Hey Zek, can we put some stuff in your room"? No phone-call, no text-message, no nothing!

And I had a sneaking suspicion Dick & Jane had planned on getting away with using my room -- without my permission -- for all the coats and purses that were also strewn about the floor, expecting I'd go back to my girlfriend's place at the end of the night.

I headed back out into the party and found Jane. Told her I wanted to use my room, and that nobody told me about putting our furniture in here. She got impatient and just asked me what I wanted/needed. I told her I needed her to help me move the stuff out so I could use the room.


As we moved everything into her and Dick's rooms (yeah, that's right, they didn't sleep in the same room, which I forgot to mention earlier -- weird, huh?) I couldn't help but notice that they had space aplenty for all the crap they'd dumped into my room, which was just confusingly infuriating. Unfortunately, as we were moving the last few things, suddenly I hear Dick thumping down the hall, bare chest looking rather weak in the hall-light, yelling in a strangely high-pitched voice, "YOU'RE A DICK MAN. OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SUCH A DICK!"

"Excuse me?"

"YOU DON'T DO ANYTHING AROUND HERE. [Author's note: still not sure what that had to do with... anything.] YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKING DICK MAN."

"I just wanted to use my room--"

"YOU'RE A DICK YOU'RE A DICK YOU'RE A DICK YOU'RE A DICK..." He trailed on like that for a while, and then went into his, This Is Your Father mode, where he tells me to stay in my room (thanks Dad) and don't come out (thanks again Dad!) and got really aggressive with my acoustic-guitar before slamming the door. Jane ineffectually berates him with the faux-protestation of "Diiiiiiiick", not even standing up for her (ex-)friend, her housemate, or the drama that he was inciting.

At that point my girlfriend voiced her discomfort with staying here a moment longer. I agreed. We packed a few essentials, and then dragged Jane back from the party to my room for a quiet conversation. I told her the happenstance, explained my dislike of Dick's irrational, aggressive behavior and told her I didn't appreciate the drama.

Upon the utterance of that last word, she recoiled as if slapped. Let me make an aside: see, Jane LOVES drama, but hates to be connected in any way with the source of said drama. That Dick, her boyfriend, was being a big fucking baby with a tantrum -- AKA drama -- and being called out on it was equivalent to a vag-punch for her.

The girlfriend meanwhile stood patiently, looking at Jane with barely concealed head-shaking as the conversation ended.

Then I locked the door to my room and we left.

At this point in the story I started spending far less time at my apartment. I was glad I'd given my month+ notice to move out a week or so ago. I didn't want to stay in that place any longer than absolutely necessary. I even made preparations to move ASAP so I wouldn't have to worry that Dick would snap like the irrational, insecure asshole that he is and try tossing any of my possessions again.

I took various steps to ensure my deposit would be reimbursed to me, and that my property would be okay when I wasn't at home, documenting everything, taking pictures of my stuff, preparing the cleaning of my room, etc.

It was a fucking hassle to rival going to the DMV everyday for a year during the rush period.

There was constant back-&-forth over stupid details, like the blinds which I didn't soil but was asked to get dry-cleaned, the outlet missing a cover that they had lost that I was asked to replace (but I didn't, because they eventually found it in the closet -- dumbasses), and other random shit that I hadn't done or dirtied but was nonetheless asked to clean.

Dick, of course, acted like... well, a dick.


They provided me with a "moving-out" sheet that I checked-off. However, I figured since I had until, y'know, the end of the month to move out, I didn't have to hurry with everything. Apparently Dick felt that on my first time checking things off the sheet, that everything I left unchecked I planned not to do. Didn't think to ask me. Instead he cleaned the rest for me (thanks dumbass!) and then got pissed holding all of his childish resentment towards me in until the next time I got back to the apartment to grab more stuff/clean.

He started a fight, and refused to leave me alone until I'd listened to his bullshit about things I never said, never planned to do, and cleaning issues I didn't have -- but that he did, I guess -- all the while I'm rolling my eyes. I eventually just walked off, leaving him to froth at the mouth in silence.

But during the conversation, he said something... strange, that brought some hackles out of me. He insinuated during the conversation that we should stop "playing this game". (I wasn't playing any game. I was just trying to clean things.) And that he had "control" over Jane. (Huh?) He said he had "power, control, influence, whatever you wanna call it" over her, and that whatever he told her, she'd do, and so I would too in order to get my deposit back.

Dude just admitted that he was manipulative.

Full stop.


I expressed my confusion, asking if she was his "minion", and what the fuck does it mean that he has power or whatever over her? Seeing him fluster and unable to construct a response, I left him to his own impotence.

But this was something I just couldn't not share with Jane. When she got home, Dick left for a quick minute. We had what my girlfriend would call a "Come to Jesus talk", that actually ended with Jane being led to the devil, so to speak.

I told her what he said, and she rationalized it, like she rationalized every instance of insane behavior he'd exhibited since moving in, from temper-tantrums to the time his older, married friend stayed over and was hitting on my girlfriend. I could almost see the hamsters on hamster-wheels turning. But so it goes.

Finally the blessed day arrived when I would be fully, and completely moved out. I naturally got my full deposit back (with a whole heap of legal actions in my back-pocket should I not) and then said my goodbyes to the Jane. Dick was thankfully not around. He'd recently got a new teaching job -- after months of, in my opinion, justifiable rejection -- filling in for someone on maternity leave.

God help his students.

And now I'm living blissfully with my girlfriend in a quiet, drama-free comfortable existence. This post, however, stands as a testament to all the shit I put up with, to all the times I let things slide, and to all insanity that I tolerated for the sake of a now-defunct friendship, and avoidance of conflict on the scale of lawsuits.

This post is a testament to the fact that I was a Nice Guy (TM) but now I refuse to apologize or keep silent about the neverending bullshit I put up with in that household, from threats to passive-aggressiveness, from the time they melted my favorite gnome to the time he tried to throw away my nice sponge and got caught.

This is for catharsis, for full disclosure, for story-telling, truth-telling, and all the times I bit my tongue. This is to say, fuck you, and also, I don't give a fuck.

This has been my life with The Housemates from Hell. And now I'd just like to say...



Cheers

8 footnotes:

Tonya N said...

I HATE ugly roommate stories. I've had a couple since moving to SF.......which is why I now live alone in a studio.....in bliss. I read through your whole story though. Glad you're out of there. That kind of stuff can emotionally and physically screw you up. Yay for living with the GF!

Eurasian Sensation said...

Very entertaining. A lot of us have been there and experienced the same sorts of feelings, although yours is probably more dramatic than most.
Although I shall say in the defense of people with shiny heads, we're not all like that.

Here are my stories:

http://eurasian-sensation.blogspot.com/2011/01/open-letter-to-my-flatmate.html

http://eurasian-sensation.blogspot.com/2011/08/housemate-hunting-highs-lows-and.html

aspergum said...

You described this well, I thought; it was easy to envision it all. It could make a good short story. Preferably with a narrator who's more self-aware--especially in terms of allowing for, and even searching for, the possibility of his own culpability--than the protagonist in this current version is.

Zek J Evets said...

Tonya,

Thanks! I'm glad too. It really did screw me up emotionally, to the point where I would be physically nauseous and get a lot of anxiety when I'd come home. Definitely not healthy.

Eurasian,

Haha, fair enough! I don't not intend to stereotype shiny-headed people based on this one unfortunate experience. Even amongst the general population of hair and not-hairy headed you are well-known for rationality and chillaxity.

But yes, it was big, dramatic, and I'm glad it's over. (And thanks for the links! Well-worth the read.)

Aspergum,

I think you're afraid to admit you have a cyber-crush on me ; )

How's that for self-awareness?

Franklin said...

And THAT is why I'm glad I avoided the whole potential "roommate from hell" scenario, by getting a place with my girl right off the bat.

The way you handled "Dick" in your story, was an incredible testament to the amount of self-restraint you have. If it were me, it wouldn't have ended as well as it did.

aspergum said...

Ha!

No. I do love you, but no more than I love any random stranger, online or in meat space.

Why do you so persistently deflect anything I write on your blog lately, seemingly as if you're doing so just because I wrote it? Do you often reject things that are said merely on the basis of who says them, rather than on the basis of what the words actually mean? If so, you'd get a lot more out of life if you didn't do that . . .

Zek J Evets said...

Franklin,

Haha, if I had stayed in that apartment any longer, surely I would've lost my shit.

Thank geebus for patient, amazing girlfriends who like moving in together.

Zek J Evets said...

aspergum,

I routinely ignore the bullshit and focus on what I'm interested in. A stranger's comments on my behavior and character as a person are a waste of time (for many reasons). But a stranger who is always giving back-handed compliments is something I'm curious about...