Prozac in my Cheerios

The Roommate from Hades

Once upon a time, in a far away land, I had two roommates. One of them was very special.

Let's call her "Mindy." 

Mindy was quite a bit older than me and Roommate #1. Her social skills were severely lacking. She was what you would call a "Debbie Downer." She worried about absolutely everything. Everything was a catastrope waiting to happen, and it was her job to inform us of all the horrible things that were surely about to befall us all.

Mindy liked to wear thigh-grazing, hospital gown style shifts to bed. Mindy also had a predilection for walking around the house in nothing but a pair of boycut panties and a wifebeater with the girls swinging free. Mind you, Mindy was not in shape. Nobody wanted to see Mindy's overweight, middle-aged, cellulite dimpled rear end in booty shorts.

But Mindy had no shame. She would come out of her room in this ensemble even if we had company over. And yet, confusingly, though she would come out of her room without a bra, she would then cross her arms over her chest and cradle her sagging grapefruit with both palms.

Our poor friends. When they came to visit, Mindy would shuffle out to complain about the noise. Then, as she presented herself in the doorway, half naked and fondling her boobs, she would squint at our guests, asking in a completely dead serious, concerned tone "Are you guys on DRUGS?"

I'll just let you sit with that visual. Soak it in.

Mindy had a way of "helping" with help that was neither wanted nor requested, and actually made things worse. There was the time I left frozen meat out to defrost for dinner, only to find Mindy had put it back in the freezer. Or the time Mindy put a brand new, delicate, expensive "hang dry only" sweater of mine in the dryer. Or the time Mindy "fixed" our dripping bathtub tap by turning it too far and shattering the knob. Or the time we had a snowstorm with freezing rain, and Mindy put my windshield wipers up...and they froze in the vertical position.

I got up for work and tried to leave the house, but I couldn't, because my wipers were frozen. I had to boil water and pour it on the wipers repeatedly to defrost them.

I was late for work that day.

This was my eternal headache with Mindy. The irony was, unlike me, she WANTED to be the mothering caregiver, but she was terrible at it. All she did was make things worse.

But the absolute worst thing about Mindy was that she would not Leave. Me. Alone.

Roommate #1 and myself had an understanding. For the most part we kept to our rooms. We might watch TV together, but we both valued our alone time.

Not Mindy.

From the second Mindy got home, she wanted to be all up in whatever we were doing. Mindy could not read social cues to save her life. (It's highly likely that Mindy was somewhere on the autism spectrum, which I will talk about in another chapter). All of the normal things a person does to politely communicate "leave me alone" like avoiding eye contact, turning away, giving clipped responses, sighing in exasperation, walking out of the room, none of it worked. You had to be rude. You had to tell her "go away" or she wouldn't get it.

I try to be a nice person, but it's exhausting. The truth is I have never liked people. At the time, I had a customer facing job that required me to interact with people all day, so when I got home, I was DONE. I needed to be left alone to recharge. And anybody that knows me well, knows that when I need to be left alone, and you continue to bother me, it will not go well for you.

Mindy never learned this lesson.

She was completely incapable of reading that I was tired, stressed, and wanted to be left alone. I needed space. She wouldn't give me any. She would stand behind me while I cooked dinner, rambling on about everything and absolutely nothing.  She would stand in the living room and bother us when we watched TV. She would wait up for us when we went out, and meet us at the door when we got home. She would kidnap my cat and lock him in her room. But worst of all, if she heard us come out of our rooms, she would follow us out. Every time. Without fail.

The creepiness factor was off the charts. My bedroom and her bedroom were right next to each other. If she was in her bedroom, and heard me come out, she would immediately come out of her room to follow me and investigate whatever I was doing. I had zero privacy. It was like I was living back at home.

One night I woke up hungry; it was late and I got up to toast an English muffin. I knew it was going to happen. I heard her door open, and then the feet padding down the hallway. She said she came out to see if anything was burning--any excuse to be nosy. 

The last straw for me was getting up at 3 a.m. one night to pee. Sure enough, as I'm on the toilet, I hear Mindy's door swing open. And at that exact moment something inside me finally died. I knew I was living in the tenth circle of Hades. I couldn't take it anymore.

We had a little chat when I came out of the bathroom, telling her in no uncertain terms, that if she continued to follow me around the house, I would end her.

Mindy couldn't take the lack of reciprocation of affection that she tried so desperately to smother us with, so she joined an online dating site, and was engaged within two weeks. Shockingly, this "romance" was completely fake; it was the Nigerian sweetheart scam, designed to get money from the naive victim. I have no idea how much money Mindy sent to Nigeria. At that point, I didn't care. I finally gave the ultimatum to Roommate #1, either she goes or I go. And I meant it. Mindy had proved she was guilleless. The last thing we needed was Mindy bringing home a Ted Bundy, BTK or Zodiac killer to our house.

So Mindy finally got the boot, and I also moved on to a better living situation.

And I don't plan on having a roommate ever, ever again.