In college, I hit the housing lottery. I however, did not always hit the roommate lottery. Sophomore year I moved on campus and my prayers of avoiding a communal bathroom at all costs were answered. I don’t know how I met *Diana but I will never forget this woman. She asked me if I wanted to live in her suite. Suites came with two rooms, a bathroom, huge closet and a kitchen, so I said yes. Since it was Diana’s suite, she picked the mandatory third roommate and we ended up with *Tiffany. None of us knew each other but we knew it couldn’t be that hard to share space.
It all started going downhill when me and Diana would walk into our room and was greeted by strangers but no Tiffany. Sometimes Tiff’s mom would be lying in her bed. Me and Diana weren’t exactly troublemakers and we were the passive two so didn’t question much of Tiffany’s actions or the strangers. It took halfway through the semester for us to catch on that Tiffany sold weed out of the dorm room. Before we could even address that issue, another one popped up. And it all boiled over around 2am on a weekday.
“If I can’t sleep none of y’all can!” I sprung up from the top bunk and swung my head in the direction of the screaming. Of course, it was Tiffany. Apparently, Diana was “texting too loud on her silent phone and chewing her cough drop too loud”. Those are Tiffany’s words not mine. I felt like I was in a movie as Diana and Tiffany exchanged words. Of course, the argument got to a point where the RA had to intervene and she stormed in 735 so quickly to resolve the issue but it had already reached a point of no return.
I remember Tiffany grabbing her pillows and blanket and I almost had a heart attack when my eyes noticed a bag of weed under her pillow. I thanked my lucky stars that our RA *Stefanie never noticed it. She insisted we mediate and at mediation, I informed the Director of Residence Life that there was nothing Tiffany could do and we needed her out immediately. Diana was shocked at my bluntness but it had to be said.
“If I have to move out so should they,” was Tiffany’s defense and me and Diana looked at each other and nodded agreeing. We promised to move down the hall after Tiffany moved out. Tiff moved out but we never did get to moving down the hall. Sharing a single room just wasn’t going to happen after living the suite life.
Tiffany was my introduction to the sour part of living the suite life. The next year we got a *Katie who was never home but we were okay with that. Unfortunately, for me, Diana graduated leaving me with the responsibility to find two new roommates.
Senior year I settled with *Courtney and *Danielle. Courtney was psych major who enjoyed music, and claimed to be OCD. Danielle played softball, was a nursing student with a part time job and enjoyed country music and hunting. Me and Danielle hit off great.
I should’ve known Courtney was trouble when she drunkenly stumbled in the room and vomited on the floor. When she said she would clean it, she covered it with a rug. Slightly intoxicated me raided the housekeeper’s cart and grabbed her absorbing powder. I cleaned up her throw up that night without a word. That was strike 1. Strike 2 occurred when we noticed she would shed everywhere! That long beautiful hair I admired made me feel like we had a cat. That OCD she told me she had would’ve came in handy when it came to cleaning her hair out of the bathtub. Me and Dani addressed her and she screamed “I only sleep here and shower here. Why do I have to clean?”
Strike 3 was me coming home at 2am to see her in my bed with her boyfriend. Passive ol’ me just walked out. I didn’t have time to argue. Instead, the next time I cleaned the bathroom, I specifically used her toothbrush to clean the toilet. It wasn’t a proud moment of mine and I do admit it was cruel especially since I told all my close friends what I did but never Courtney. The joke was “At least she brushes her teeth.”
I was so glad to be done with the suite life come May. Turns out Courtney dropped out after picking up a weed habit. Me and Diane are still best friends. All of Dani’s hard work paid off and she’s a nurse. Remember no matter what lottery you hit, you still have to pay some kind of taxes and I paid the price.
*All names were changed.
My girlfriends loved reading this piece I wrote yesterday reminiscing on college days.