It’s been a long night. The only thing on your mind is throwing the 12 decorative pillows (that your mom insisted you buy) off your big comfy bed and burying yourself under that warm, fluffy blanket.

You fight to keep your eyes open as you take the elevator up to your room. As you round the corner and get closer to your room you grow more excited to kick off your shoes, peel those skinny jeans off your legs (you swear they weren’t this tight when you bought them…) and take a one way ticket to Snoozetown.

And then you see it. Scribbled on the dry erase board tacked to your door: come back later.

The writing is messy, but the message is loud and clear. Your roommate’s got someone in there and you are not welcome.

Angry, you stand there for a few moments taking it all in. It’s late on a weeknight. Everyone else is already asleep. And how long have they been in there?  Where the hell are you supposed to go? When can you come back?

You scan the hallway. Yup, everyone’s doors are closed and the hall is quiet. You are going to have to find somewhere else to pass the time. You take the elevator back down to the study room on your dorm’s main floor. You’re exhausted, but you decide you’ll do a bit more reading and try the room again in a half hour.

When you walk in you find another student in there reading on a couch.

“You too?” You ask. She nods. Read More »

It’s been a long night. The only thing on your mind is throwing the 12 decorative pillows (that your mom insisted you buy) off your big comfy bed and burying yourself under that warm, fluffy blanket.

You fight to keep your eyes open as you take the elevator up to your room. As you round the corner and get closer to your room you grow more excited to kick off your shoes, peel those skinny jeans off your legs (you swear they weren’t this tight when you bought them…) and take a one way ticket to Snoozetown.

And then you see it. Scribbled on the dry erase board tacked to your door: come back later.

The writing is messy, but the message is loud and clear. Your roommate’s got a boy in there and you are not welcome.

Angry, you stand there for a few moments taking it all in. It’s late on a weeknight. Everyone else is already asleep. And how long have they been in there?  Where the hell are you supposed to go? When can you come back?

You scan the hallway. Yup, everyone’s doors are closed and the hall is quiet. You are going to have to find somewhere else to pass the time. You take the elevator back down to the study room on your dorm’s main floor. You’re exhausted, but you decide you’ll do a bit more reading and try the room again in a half hour.

When you walk in you find another student in there reading on a couch. Read More »

Some of us got lucky when we moved in. We had friendly, personable roommates who respected our space and kept us sane through finals week. Some of us ended up in one-room hell for a year. There are as many ways for a roommate to suck as there are humans on the planet, but here’s a few standout stinkers:

The Social Drinker

Or, in other words, the roommate that’s only social when she’s drunk. You spend the whole day together, share the same bathroom, use the same shelf for your snacks, and probably own the same deodorant, but the only things you say to each other all day will be “I’m going to class” and “Mind if I get the light?” You don’t hate each other or even dislike each other, but somehow you never seem to have a conversation longer than fifteen seconds. Unless it’s Thursday evening and she’s into the vodka, of course. Then she’s your best friend, and she always wonders why you guys never talk, why she’s never gotten to meet all your cool friends, how much she hated that stupid haircut you had at orientation, and eventually she passes out and you don’t speak to each other for another week.

The Invisible Woman

You know she exists, because you saw her parents on move-in day, and the pile of laundry in her hamper sometimes varies in size. But she’s never in the room when you come back from class, she’s never brushing her teeth or taking a shower, and nobody ever comes looking for her. There’s the empty shell of a human life: bed always made, textbooks neatly lined up on the bookshelf, television never turned on. Your room feels like it’s being haunted, as if there’s some presence only half there. Sometimes you see her outside, chain-smoking and looking waifish. Read More »