Roommate Horror Story S01E01: I Saw Dead Kids
The rich one.
The similar-AF one.
The super-people-hater.
The ho.
The 'What-is-sex?' and 'Porn-makes-me-puke' one.
The thief.
The one with the clingy boyfriend.
The mom.
The super-religious one.
The cook.
The gym freak.
The 420 friendly one.
How many of these have you had? How many normal and strange boxes can you check? If you've had any different types, please tell me and I'll add those to the list, heh.
For all those who've ever lived in hostels, flats and paying guest facilities, this should come as no surprise. We've all had our fair share of weird-ass roommates and flatmates who've made us feel that we grew up way normal than they did.
I for one, have been mostly very fortunate when it comes to roommates. Thanks to all the good Karma I've garnered petting and feeding dogs on the street, Satan has blessed me with good people all around, no matter where I go.
But every once in awhile, tragedy has befallen and I've ended up cursing my destiny. Isn't that always the way it goes, though? The chutia who wrote your life has always had a love-hate relationship with you - which is so unfair - like what the fuck did you ever do to them? Do they have life more pathetic than yours or are they just plain sadists?
Whatever it is, I'm gonna take you through one of my nightmares - and let you decide if you've been fortunate or if you've had worse.
So I had this one roommate a couple years ago, who was otherwise really nice. She was an exceptionally bright, young, ambitious woman who took college really seriously. Everything worked out very smoothly for her in the end. She was smart and stupid, intelligent and dumb, nice and an asshole all at once.
It so happened that she was in a complicated relationship(well- aren't we all?), and things weren't the brightest between her and her boyfriend/girlfriend/sugar dad(I leave it to your imagination). They were broken up at the time and I was the one she confided in about how hard it was to sit and spend an entire day with a person who wasn't in love with you anymore. Tragic, really. I mean, I've been there(again, haven't we all?) and I know how dead-on-the-inside it makes you feel. The love songs start to pinch, the colors from your life seem to fade away, even looking at them hurts, and you have a constant state of passive-sadness hidden in there somewhere.
Once the entire 'here's my sad love story' marathon started, she gradually started to divulge all the information. The highs and the lows of the relationship, how they got together - you know, the usual. Eventually, she asked me about my 'first love' too. That's how it goes, right? I give you wheat, you give me sugar; you scratch my back, I scratch yours. And one thing about two women talking about failed relationships is that it always leads to the big question:
"Did you guys do it?"
and
"Who was it?"
Haha. Classic.
One thing that you should probably know about women in India - all of them will act cool if you tell them that you 'did it', but from the inside, they will try their best not to judge you. Even though they're 'doing it' themselves, they will definitely, and I mean definitely, go around telling their friends that you a hoe bag bitch. I think that the bigger question we girls should be asking each other when it comes to our 'first times' is that HOW was it - I think that'd make up for a more interesting conversation any damn day. I mean, y'all know the weird-creepy things men do in bed? Some call their mama's names, some come faster than Eminem raps, some announce when they're about to come, some like to call you names while in action - men are fucking weird.
Go back to the story, Srish.
The big question popped in our conversation soon enough, and I told her quite frankly that I did do it - it was a long time ago and thanks to my friends, I became very honest about things like these. When I bounced the question back to her she told me they'd never had sex but kept making out all the time, even after they were broken up.
To be frank, I was like ???? at the time, because - you don't stay in a relationship in college for an entire year and don't 'do it'. Let's be honest - how many of you've gotten in relationships in college only to 'get some'? But well, I personally know people who've been in long term relationships and have not 'done it' so I saved the judgment.
Anyway, time passed and things became more complex. Her ex kept coming to our place and was very civil most of the time I was around, but something was fishy and I could sense it. For instance, a lot of times I'd come home from class and would find the door locked from the inside and on knocking, it would take at least 5 minutes for her to open the door. Sometimes I would sense some running around, someone rushing to the bathroom, or them turning the lights back on. I mean, I'm no one to comment or predict whatever the fuck it was they were doing inside. Maybe they were wrestling- or summoning the devil - or, I don't know, maybe they were a part of a secret drug cartel and might be planning their sale strategies (sorry, I'm just too obsessed with Breaking Bad). No judgment - but I wasn't dumb enough to believe everything that wannabe-sanskari ho was telling me.
Time passed and in due course of the semester, her ex made the visits more frequent. I didn't usually run into them often, because we were in different colleges had different class schedules, but when I did, they were always together. How nice to have an ex over after a breakup and not having to ghost them, right? That's what I thought too.
Until one day. That horrifying, dreadful day.
I'd come home early and was very tired - from the double-faced bitches I had to bear with at college. Now, I have a ritual of taking a bath after coming home, not before going out because what's the point of bathing in the morning? You're fresher than usual, and you're gonna get dusty anyway. So, I took some fresh clothes, put on some nice music (I like to make the best of having the room to myself- Introvert 101), shook my whammy a little, turned on the geyser and turned around.
I saw in the toilet something that looked like phlegm but was more definite in shape. Like, you know how phlegm has bulks of mucus in it, like some parts of phlegm are gooey and some are slimy? (disgusted already?) Well, the thing in the toilet was very definite and clear. I mean, you picture it - the toilet is flushed and clean, and then there is this - something that just, doesn't belong there. The more I looked at it, the more disgusted I got. For a hot five seconds, I debated on whether I should flush it, or take a picture and send it to my horndog, lying-through-her-teeth roomie.
I gotta tell you - I have seen a lot of horrible, disgusting things in life. I remember when I was a kid, I once saw my younger sibling poop and crumple it lovingly in his hands like it was one of those slimy things people today find 'satisfying' (y'all are hella weird, btw). This other time, I was sleeping dreaming of Rajat Tokas when my sister (about three or four at the time) got up on my bed and started looking for Satan knows what on a cabinet beside the bed. That spawn of the Asshole-God positioned both her legs in a way that my head was right between them. Like all other stupid, dumb kids she had a loose bowel and wasn't quite potty trained at the time, she let a big one fall. No wait, this gets worse. My bad luck and my sleep-deprived-workaholic mom's absent-mindedness joined hands because of which my sister happened to be wearing torn underwear. What can I say - gravity did its work and *ploop* my sister's poop landed on my head.
What happened next? I woke up with shit all over my hair. Smelly, disgusting, full of half-digested food, toddler shit. What the fuck else?
But you guys - this was way more disgusting than that. There were technically dead kids before me. Kids who would've had a chance to be born and further contribute to the mindless depletion of resources. I don't mean to be rude or sound like an asshole, but SEMEN IS FUCKING DISGUSTING. All of the women who swallow that thing or let their partners finish on their faces - you will always have my respect for the outstanding threshold of tolerance. Another perk of being an introvert - us weirdos have an active imagination. Can you imagine me imagining what went down there right before the discharge took place? Ew. Ugh. Why do I do that to myself?
Frankly, I've never hated and judged someone simultaneously. I hated her because - well, I don't give a rat's ass as to whatever she does behind the closed bedroom door. But can you not be a little more hygienic? Yes, I understand that a guy's mind closes shop after climaxing, but do you have to be that inconsiderate? You do realize you don't live alone, right? Judged her, because - when people get real and personal with you and tell you things, you DON'T lie to them. What the fuck? People like these make me the maddest. People like these don't deserve good friends. Or friends.
For all of those people who have roommates - make sure you acknowledge the fact that living with another burden-on-earth can be troublesome, but just acknowledge the fact that they live with you and that it is your duty to not make things worse on your part. If only we all learned to pick up after ourselves, this planet would've been better. And more beautiful. But no - one thing that doesn't appear to exist in this world - is accountability.
Shame on you. On all those of you who think you get a free pass for littering on the road. For paying extra for plastic bags for groceries(you guys are the worst). For making the atmosphere a lot dirtier every day by taking out your fancy-ass automobiles and not even car-pooling. Shame on you who think you're entitled to everything. Shame on you who love tossing responsibilities onto others. Shame on you all who forget to flush the toilet(I mean, seriously, get a fucking grip on yourself). You disgust me. You make me angry. You are the kind of people because of who I'd learned to hate my entire species.
So - what are you going to do about it, huh?
Something?
Anything?
The similar-AF one.
The super-people-hater.
The ho.
The 'What-is-sex?' and 'Porn-makes-me-puke' one.
The thief.
The one with the clingy boyfriend.
The mom.
The super-religious one.
The cook.
The gym freak.
The 420 friendly one.
How many of these have you had? How many normal and strange boxes can you check? If you've had any different types, please tell me and I'll add those to the list, heh.
For all those who've ever lived in hostels, flats and paying guest facilities, this should come as no surprise. We've all had our fair share of weird-ass roommates and flatmates who've made us feel that we grew up way normal than they did.
I for one, have been mostly very fortunate when it comes to roommates. Thanks to all the good Karma I've garnered petting and feeding dogs on the street, Satan has blessed me with good people all around, no matter where I go.
But every once in awhile, tragedy has befallen and I've ended up cursing my destiny. Isn't that always the way it goes, though? The chutia who wrote your life has always had a love-hate relationship with you - which is so unfair - like what the fuck did you ever do to them? Do they have life more pathetic than yours or are they just plain sadists?
Whatever it is, I'm gonna take you through one of my nightmares - and let you decide if you've been fortunate or if you've had worse.
So I had this one roommate a couple years ago, who was otherwise really nice. She was an exceptionally bright, young, ambitious woman who took college really seriously. Everything worked out very smoothly for her in the end. She was smart and stupid, intelligent and dumb, nice and an asshole all at once.
It so happened that she was in a complicated relationship(well- aren't we all?), and things weren't the brightest between her and her boyfriend/girlfriend/sugar dad(I leave it to your imagination). They were broken up at the time and I was the one she confided in about how hard it was to sit and spend an entire day with a person who wasn't in love with you anymore. Tragic, really. I mean, I've been there(again, haven't we all?) and I know how dead-on-the-inside it makes you feel. The love songs start to pinch, the colors from your life seem to fade away, even looking at them hurts, and you have a constant state of passive-sadness hidden in there somewhere.
Once the entire 'here's my sad love story' marathon started, she gradually started to divulge all the information. The highs and the lows of the relationship, how they got together - you know, the usual. Eventually, she asked me about my 'first love' too. That's how it goes, right? I give you wheat, you give me sugar; you scratch my back, I scratch yours. And one thing about two women talking about failed relationships is that it always leads to the big question:
"Did you guys do it?"
and
"Who was it?"
Haha. Classic.
One thing that you should probably know about women in India - all of them will act cool if you tell them that you 'did it', but from the inside, they will try their best not to judge you. Even though they're 'doing it' themselves, they will definitely, and I mean definitely, go around telling their friends that you a hoe bag bitch. I think that the bigger question we girls should be asking each other when it comes to our 'first times' is that HOW was it - I think that'd make up for a more interesting conversation any damn day. I mean, y'all know the weird-creepy things men do in bed? Some call their mama's names, some come faster than Eminem raps, some announce when they're about to come, some like to call you names while in action - men are fucking weird.
Go back to the story, Srish.
The big question popped in our conversation soon enough, and I told her quite frankly that I did do it - it was a long time ago and thanks to my friends, I became very honest about things like these. When I bounced the question back to her she told me they'd never had sex but kept making out all the time, even after they were broken up.
To be frank, I was like ???? at the time, because - you don't stay in a relationship in college for an entire year and don't 'do it'. Let's be honest - how many of you've gotten in relationships in college only to 'get some'? But well, I personally know people who've been in long term relationships and have not 'done it' so I saved the judgment.
Anyway, time passed and things became more complex. Her ex kept coming to our place and was very civil most of the time I was around, but something was fishy and I could sense it. For instance, a lot of times I'd come home from class and would find the door locked from the inside and on knocking, it would take at least 5 minutes for her to open the door. Sometimes I would sense some running around, someone rushing to the bathroom, or them turning the lights back on. I mean, I'm no one to comment or predict whatever the fuck it was they were doing inside. Maybe they were wrestling- or summoning the devil - or, I don't know, maybe they were a part of a secret drug cartel and might be planning their sale strategies (sorry, I'm just too obsessed with Breaking Bad). No judgment - but I wasn't dumb enough to believe everything that wannabe-sanskari ho was telling me.
Time passed and in due course of the semester, her ex made the visits more frequent. I didn't usually run into them often, because we were in different colleges had different class schedules, but when I did, they were always together. How nice to have an ex over after a breakup and not having to ghost them, right? That's what I thought too.
Until one day. That horrifying, dreadful day.
I'd come home early and was very tired - from the double-faced bitches I had to bear with at college. Now, I have a ritual of taking a bath after coming home, not before going out because what's the point of bathing in the morning? You're fresher than usual, and you're gonna get dusty anyway. So, I took some fresh clothes, put on some nice music (I like to make the best of having the room to myself- Introvert 101), shook my whammy a little, turned on the geyser and turned around.
I saw in the toilet something that looked like phlegm but was more definite in shape. Like, you know how phlegm has bulks of mucus in it, like some parts of phlegm are gooey and some are slimy? (disgusted already?) Well, the thing in the toilet was very definite and clear. I mean, you picture it - the toilet is flushed and clean, and then there is this - something that just, doesn't belong there. The more I looked at it, the more disgusted I got. For a hot five seconds, I debated on whether I should flush it, or take a picture and send it to my horndog, lying-through-her-teeth roomie.
I gotta tell you - I have seen a lot of horrible, disgusting things in life. I remember when I was a kid, I once saw my younger sibling poop and crumple it lovingly in his hands like it was one of those slimy things people today find 'satisfying' (y'all are hella weird, btw). This other time, I was sleeping dreaming of Rajat Tokas when my sister (about three or four at the time) got up on my bed and started looking for Satan knows what on a cabinet beside the bed. That spawn of the Asshole-God positioned both her legs in a way that my head was right between them. Like all other stupid, dumb kids she had a loose bowel and wasn't quite potty trained at the time, she let a big one fall. No wait, this gets worse. My bad luck and my sleep-deprived-workaholic mom's absent-mindedness joined hands because of which my sister happened to be wearing torn underwear. What can I say - gravity did its work and *ploop* my sister's poop landed on my head.
What happened next? I woke up with shit all over my hair. Smelly, disgusting, full of half-digested food, toddler shit. What the fuck else?
But you guys - this was way more disgusting than that. There were technically dead kids before me. Kids who would've had a chance to be born and further contribute to the mindless depletion of resources. I don't mean to be rude or sound like an asshole, but SEMEN IS FUCKING DISGUSTING. All of the women who swallow that thing or let their partners finish on their faces - you will always have my respect for the outstanding threshold of tolerance. Another perk of being an introvert - us weirdos have an active imagination. Can you imagine me imagining what went down there right before the discharge took place? Ew. Ugh. Why do I do that to myself?
Frankly, I've never hated and judged someone simultaneously. I hated her because - well, I don't give a rat's ass as to whatever she does behind the closed bedroom door. But can you not be a little more hygienic? Yes, I understand that a guy's mind closes shop after climaxing, but do you have to be that inconsiderate? You do realize you don't live alone, right? Judged her, because - when people get real and personal with you and tell you things, you DON'T lie to them. What the fuck? People like these make me the maddest. People like these don't deserve good friends. Or friends.
For all of those people who have roommates - make sure you acknowledge the fact that living with another burden-on-earth can be troublesome, but just acknowledge the fact that they live with you and that it is your duty to not make things worse on your part. If only we all learned to pick up after ourselves, this planet would've been better. And more beautiful. But no - one thing that doesn't appear to exist in this world - is accountability.
Shame on you. On all those of you who think you get a free pass for littering on the road. For paying extra for plastic bags for groceries(you guys are the worst). For making the atmosphere a lot dirtier every day by taking out your fancy-ass automobiles and not even car-pooling. Shame on you who think you're entitled to everything. Shame on you who love tossing responsibilities onto others. Shame on you all who forget to flush the toilet(I mean, seriously, get a fucking grip on yourself). You disgust me. You make me angry. You are the kind of people because of who I'd learned to hate my entire species.
So - what are you going to do about it, huh?
Something?
Anything?
Comments
Post a Comment