What's Your Worst Roommate Horror Story?

Illustration for article titled What's Your Worst Roommate Horror Story?

We know most of you have a story of communal living gone hilariously or horrendously awry. Now we want to hear them all — can you top the tale of Herman the Lover?


Some of you shared your roommate woes on our roommate drama post a while back — and perhaps others have seen fit to submit a passive aggressive note or two. My favorite entry in the latter genre is actually from Aleksandar Hemon's short story collection Love and Obstacles:

Your socks are all over
How many fucking feet do you have?
You are not alone here, buddy
Not alone

Intern Katie turned a friend's horrible roommate story into a meditation on bullying, and Dodai's living situation turned into a veritable soap opera:

My final year in college I lived with a guy and a girl. The guy and I fell in love; he broke up with his GF; we started dating, and the female roommate felt sorry for the girl or some shit and started inviting her over and hanging out with her. It was a nightmare, since two of the 3 people who lived in the apt never wanted to see that girl. And had to either stay away from home or confront the awkward situation. So: don't do that.

But so far, my favorite bad-roommate story is that of Herman, as told by MorningGloria:

I used to have this roommate who was essentially Chicago's Russian answer to Jersey Shore. She was a club promoter and had this Russian boyfriend named Herman who drove a Mercedes and still lived with his parents. Herman stayed over at least five nights a week and never wore a shirt and was covered with hair and was always sweaty and lounging around, stinky and hairy, on my furniture. Herman and my roommate would spend much of their days loudly fucking, and at least one of every three times I'd come home to her yelling "oh Herman! Herman!" and then a bunch of stuff in Russian. I finally had enough and one day sat her down and told her that according to the lease, we were supposed to be the only occupants and that if Herman wanted to stay more than 3 nights per week, he would have to start paying me rent. She moved out a few weeks later and before she left she asked if she could buy my cat from me. She also stole like half of my pots and pans.


Got a story to rival Herman? Leave it in the comments, and we'll publish the best ones!

Site Shares New Yorkers' Best Rants [NY Post]

Earlier: Social Minefield: Avoiding Roommate Drama

Image via Natalie Dee



I really don't think I can do justice in a short description, so I'll just try to list off a few bits and maybe the cognitive dissonance will explain why she was such a sucky flatmate:

- She was a member of Opus Dei and insisted on having a statue of Mary & Child and a framed photo of Fr. Jose Maria Escriva on the mantel.

- She forbade overnight guests due to her religious scruples (but had no qualms staying overnight at her boyfriend's).

- She stole my sheets and towels, and expected me to believe that she "thought they were hers" when I confronted her (Thou shalt not steal?)

- See also: Milk. I'm not the type to complain when someone borrows a bit of milk when they've run out, but a year of not having milk for my breakfast because she used hers and mine up again is worthy of complaint.

- There's carelessness and complete lack of common sense. One would expect someone who works in a law firm to understand basic concepts like "If you put a hot iron down flat on the carpet, it just might burn it." or "If it says in big red letters with a big X on the bottle DO NOT USE THIS NEAR FOOD OR EATING UTENSILS, you probably shouldn't clean the dishes with it".

- Despite the fact that she took half my tupperware containers to work with her and never brought them back, it never occurred to her that open bowls are not the best way to store stuff in the fridge. Of course, many of the things spilled and went totally rancid, because the fridge doesn't magically clean itself.

- Also in the kitchen hygiene department: Open, leaking packages of bacon do not go in the vegetable tray!

- Also in the lacking common sense department: the bathroom had a tub with seated shower, and she never figured out how to sit in the corner and point the water in at herself instead of spraying the entire bathroom floor. Every morning, the bath mat was soaked, and when I tried to keep a second bath mat for myself, she soaked that too.

- Speaking of the bathroom, she complained that my toothbrush was too loud and asked me to not use it at night. Also the water running was too loud, so she didn't want me to wash my face either.

-Things she broke aside from putting a nice iron mark on the carpet: The washing machine (twice); half of my mugs, three plates; she somehow managed to melt three spoons and a spatula to the heating element in the dishwasher; two tiles in the bathroom; my modem/router. I can't actually remember what else, but I know there was more.

-(To explain why this next one is particularly uncool, I'm an extreme introvert and have a mild phobia of talking on the telephone. I'm generally upfront about this, and I do try.) She expected me to be her answering service, and people were consistently calling and asking where she was and how to get in touch with her. This was most often her mother, who was incredibly rude, and apparently told the roommate that she didn't like my tone of voice. This was apparently the kiss of death, because I never heard the end of how rude I was to her mother on the phone for saying, "Hello? No, I don't know where she is. No, I don't know why she isn't answering her cell phone." Sorry, I can take a message for her." Also, several times she had friends come over several hours before she got in and expected me to entertain them. Then she took offense at the subject of the small talk I tried to make with complete strangers.

- She treated me like a tenant instead of someone who had co-signed a lease, and tried to evict me when I finally yelled at her.

-Pet peeve: When I made chocolate chip cookies, she demanded I make them without walnuts. (WTF? The walnuts are the best part, and I'm the one baking here!)

This piece of work was slightly more memorable than the pot-dealing kleptomaniac who only ate scrambled eggs and chicken, never paid the electricity bill or took out the trash, and swallowed half a bottle of sleeping pills. I just find the full effect of her WHO DOES THAT??? IS THERE NO LOGIC? difficult to describe.