My Roommate From Hell

By Taylor Brim on January 8, 2013

“Oh…my…god. What is that on your shirt?” 

My boyfriend stood across the dorm room, mouth agape in disgust, his finger pointing to my torso. I looked down to see a fresh yellow stain nearly covering my entire white t-shirt. “I’m…I’m not sure,” I reply as I tug on my shirt to examine the newest accent to my favorite Hanes V-neck. It stretched from collar to the bottom of the shirt, as if I spilt a drink on myself. The odor from the yellow stain was oddly distinct. Then it hit me. It was freaking urine. 

Not everyone can claim that they have been involuntarily soaked in someone else’s pee, especially while standing in front of their boyfriend (if you can, I suggest psychiatric help). But not everyone has had a roommate from hell like me.

Naive Intentions

We met at spring orientation. To my misfortune, we were placed us in the same tour group. With good intentions, I struck up a friendly conversation with her, ”Hi, my name is Taylor. What’s your’s?”  Her smile seemed sincere as she told me her name and went on to describe her dream to be an elementary school teacher. When she asked to be my roommate towards the end of the day, I did not see a a blaring reason to say no.

 

We began the semester able to function while practically living on top of each other. She was respectful of my bed time and I wouldn’t play my “weird indie music” (Young the Giant) whenever she was in the room.

Yet, the good times were not to last long. Minor annoyances began to add up: being late on paying me back for buying her lunch a couple weeks ago, staying up late whenever I wanted to sleep, getting upset that I never invited her to go out, and blasting country music while I tried to study. I tried to ignore these because I realized that no one is perfect (I ate one of her granola bars without permission, which was big no-no). But…it started to get weird.

Partying and Peeing

One day she announces with a over zealous grin that she has a boyfriend, sort of. I was hopeful that having a love interest would lure her out of the room more. On the contrary, I was to know her “boo” more than I hoped to, as each night I listened to their hot and heavy sexual…endeavors…on the top bunk.

The girl liked to party and so did her boyfriend-thing (they weren’t together, just sexual buddies). She started to go out with him more, coming back to the dorm room each weekend on the verge of blacking out. As long as she puked in the toilet and made it into bed, I didn’t care to know her party life. But  her boo got this great idea to start partying in the dorm room. It would be 3 a.m during the school week and I sat in my bed wide awake, watching them take shots and eat Taco Bell. Why me, why? 

I managed to keep my sanity by hanging out in my friend’s rooms, only returning to go to bed and listen to them do “it”. But one fateful, pee-soaked day would determine our inevitable fate apart as roommates.

I left on a Friday to go pick up my boyfriend and bring him back to campus. To my great relief, we returned to an empty dorm room Saturday. After settling in and starting to snuggle on my bed, he suggested we watch TV so I began to look for the remote. Nowhere to be found, I remembered that sometimes the remote falls down the crack of the bunks and ends up underneath the bed. Wearing my favorite Hanes white V-neck, I got on my hands and knees and belly crawled under the bunk beds to reach the remote, only to return to a disgusted look on my boyfriend’s face.

“Oh…my…god. What is that on your shirt?”

I frantically reached for my blanket after realizing what the mystery substance was. I began to use my blanket to wipe my shirt, but something was off. My shirt was getting…worse. I held my blanket at arm’s length and watched in horror as my blanket began to drip…drip…drip…yellow. My blanket was soaked with urine too! I dropped everything and started to scream. I honestly thought I was trapped in a urine soaked hell.

After an awkward confrontation, I discovered the pee was from none other than my roommate. Exclaiming she had no idea what we were talking about but admitting to getting extremely drunk Friday night, we figured out through a process of elimination that she blacked out, passed out in her bed, needed to go pee, and instead of making it to the toilet, substituted the toilet with the floor and used my blanket to wipe it up.

As if that was not bad enough, not once did I receive an apology or an offer to replace my urine stained shirt and blanket. My boyfriend and I went to eat at the cafeteria later that day, and with my own ears I could hear her brag from across the dining hall about how she partied so hard she peed everywhere.

She moved out a week later.

And that is how my roommate from hell got urine on my favorite shirt.

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