Ahhh yes. Freshman year. The good ol’ days. Just you and the roomie, piles of dirty laundry, and some stale Cheetos intermittently scattered across the room. Not a care in the world. Housing selection forms came around in the spring, and you said “What the hell”, and hastily agreed to remain roommates for the following year.
But then…the unexpected happened.
You arrive back in the fall to find your roommate has systematically had his balls removed by an evil, domesticating, friend-stealing female that he met during summer classes. But get off his back, dude, seriously, I think she’s “the one”.
He has pulled a complete 360. He went from housing buffalo wings, to housing a buffalo. It’s true—she has adopted your room as her own. She spends days on the futon at a time, lounging around in his sweat pants and hoodies like a poached hippo. The once consuming scent of stale Cheetos is no longer present, and you can see the processed cheesy evidence on her sausage-like finger tips.
They lay in bed for the better part of the day, as the prophetic words of Lifetime television resonate in the background. He once admirably watched taped basketball games of Dr. J’s most memorable performances. Now, only tapes of Dr. Phil can be found. Worse yet, you’ve found Scarface has been removed from the DVD player, and replaced with flicks like The Notebook and Cheaper by the Dozen. (although we can all agree that Steve Martin’s performance in that film is nothing short of stellar). That being said…
We’ve lost him. There's nothing we can do now. However, there is one thing you very well should keep in mind.
You may not be reading this in your room right now. Perhaps you are at the library, or a friend’s apartment, or any place you frequent throughout the course of your day to escape their nauseating habits. However, rest assured that you can most certainly count on one thing—and one thing for certain. They are probably having unprotected sex on your bed right now.
God’s speed courageous fellow. God’s speed.
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Ahhh yes. Freshman year. The good ol’ days. Just you and the roomie, piles of dirty laundry, and some stale Cheetos intermittently scattered across the room. Not a care in the world. Housing selection forms came around in the spring, and you said “What the hell”, and hastily agreed to remain roommates for the following year.
