As I sit here writing, there’s someone singing Broadway musicals into my ear. It’s not my roommate, with whom I actually chose to live for a year, but someone more sinister, more annoying than you thought one person could be.
It all began when his roommate moved out in September, feigning that the “beds were too short” so he could move to New South. We all knew it was actually because Darnall has some less-than-desirable characteristics.
There’s one on every floor—the hall nomad. At first, everyone thought he was so lucky to have a single, but now, we realize the error of our thinking. We neglected the truly social nature of dorm life. Without a partner in crime, you’re relegated to sidekick status, at best. Now, he morosely lumbers through the hallways, searching out people who have finally sat down to do some work after hours of procrastination, have food or will entertain him. In his perfect world, they’d do all three.
Thanks to the fact that I have a non-functioning peep-hole, I can’t even screen my door-answering. Invariably, it’ll be my third roommate, with some outlandish story for why he needs to talk to me. Sometimes it’s something he heard “on the news” or some obviously false gossip about our floor-mates; but mostly, it’s his constant search for food. His newest obsession is the Sunkist fruit gems my parents send me. I made the mistake of leaving them in plain view one day, and he was instantly addicted. He ate them all, and now has the audacity to ask me every day, “Are the jellies here yet?” I keep telling him, “Oh, no…they’ll probably get in tomorrow.”
“You’re hiding them, I know it!” he answers, jokingly. I never deny it, just laugh along with him, indulging his fantasy. There’s a lull, and instead of heading for his own room, he waits, fishing for my awkward and pained, “So … you want to … come in?” Does he ever say no? No.
The next few hours will be spent with him asking my roommate and me if we have any drinks or food, if he can watch television (because of course he doesn’t have one of his own), use my computer or nap in my bed.
The problem first arose when my roommate and I, the sweet, loving and unsuspecting people that we are, took this wretched soul into our hearts and dorm room. We didn’t realize that, like a dog on the street, once you show it affection, it’ll never leave. Now we put up with hours of hearing him pine for girls who both have boyfriends and don’t know his name. Add to that the incessant renditions of Broadway musicals, and you have my personal vision of hell.
We’ve tried all the tricks for getting rid of him—leading a trail of food to the door, incessant yawning, references to “bed times” and, of course, girl talk. You’d think that constant conversation about cramps, boys, and celebrity couples would drive any guy insane, but no, he’s the main contributor to our chats. “He’s an asshole,” he keeps telling me about a guy I’ve been seeing, “You should just forget about him.” I would abstain from all male contact for a year if I thought it would get rid of him. And that’s saying something.
It’s gotten so bad that he jokes familiarly about how he “lives with us” calling us “roomies.” He leaves messages on our whiteboard that read, “Sorry, guys, I forgot my key. I’m going to hang out with Jeff and Omar until you get back!” That’s right: he has imaginary roommates. I wouldn’t be shocked to walk in and see him simultaneously eating my food, polluting my computer’s sign-in functions with his screen name, giving me advice I don’t want and watching the cable I paid for.
Short of breaking this guy’s collarbone, I’ve run out of feasible options. I’ll admit, part of the problem is that my roommate and I are too passive-aggressive to simply send him on his way, so we’ll take some of the blame. But if I hear one more song from “Wicked,” there’ll be an empty room on this floor—and not because its occupant “lives” with me.
I realize that my third roommate will probably read my diatribe, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. If I can prevent just one wandering beggar from ruining two people’s lives, it’s worth it. So, if you recognize a characteristic or two, take a moment to consider what you may be doing to those around you. If you recognize six or seven attributes, then please, for the love of Roy Hibbert, move out of my room and leave my real roommate and me in peace.
