Oh God. Here we go. This will be long, but I hope it will be worth it. rolls up sleeves
What I can reasonably fit on a Reddit comment is really just the tip of the iceberg, but I'll do my best. When I was 19 and in college, I was desperate to get out of my mom's house and finally live in my own place. In order for this to be financially possible, though, I would need to find a roommate. A month or so after I started searching, I met this girl -- we'll call her Natalie -- at a local coffee shop. Natalie seemed like a genuinely cool person. She was relaxed, had a good sense of humor, and also seemed to have her shit together. And, to my delight, she said she had a couple of friends who were looking to get a place together, and would I consider joining them? My answer was an emphatic yes.
So, we found a flat near the university that wasn't very nice but had plenty of space and was reasonably priced. It was good enough for us. Soon enough, we were moving in, and that was when the problems started. On the day we moved in, Natalie met and started a whirlwind romance with a twenty-something homeless man who was wandering around outside. Now, I really have no problem with homeless people, but I do have a problem with a couple being camped in the living room on a mattress, making out under the covers while my parents and other family members walk past carrying boxes. And that is exactly what happened.
Now, I guess maybe I could have seen past this if it were a one-time thing, but, surprise: it wasn't. As Natalie and -- we'll call him Mark's -- romance progressed, he started coming around more and more. Soon enough, Mark lived in our flat. He would take everyone's food as if the pantry were a free buffet, make it for himself, and leave huge messes in the kitchen. He would take thirty-minute-long showers on a daily basis. He and Natalie would regularly have loud sex, sometimes with their bedroom door open. We did not receive a cent of rent, food, or utility money from him.
It quickly became clear to me and the other roommates that Mark wasn't exactly playing with a full deck. For lack of a better term, he was batshit insane. Sure, Mark had kind of an unpredictable temper and obviously didn't understand appropriate social behavior or boundaries, but the biggest giveaway was his incessant lobbying to convince Natalie to drop out of school and instead learn wilderness survival skills. He maintained that while college degrees would soon become obsolete, the apocalypse was certainly upon us and the ones who knew how to pitch a tent, build a fire, and spear river fish with sticks would be the lucky survivors. He also would clog the toilet by attempting to flush almost-full bowls of Cheerios in his bid to "save the environment," which was another big clue. While I did try to avoid him, it was difficult because he was almost always there. He didn't go to school or seem to have a job. The other roommates and I repeatedly asked Natalie not to have him around anymore, and while she would placate us and agree to comply, nothing ever changed.
Soon, Natalie and Mark were having "tripping" raves/huge drug parties in the basement most weekends despite our protests. I had a sweet little black cat at the time who hated that flat and all of the people in it except me. I started bringing her to my then-boyfriend's house when Natalie and Mark would have their LSD bonanzas just so some faded moron wouldn't hurt her. As the situation gradually worsened, I picked up extra hours at work, started spending a lot of time at said boyfriend's house, and generally made an effort to be home as infrequently as possible.
Eventually, Natalie cheated on Mark. He was not happy. One night, when I was thankfully not home, Mark broke into the flat, stormed into Natalie's room, and destroyed a bunch of her stuff, including her laptop.
The only reason I had stayed there as long as I did was because I was tied to a year-long lease, but at this point, I didn't give a fuck about the money. I needed to get out. So, I did. I lived with my boyfriend for a month and then forked over the extra cash for my own place. From what I heard, the entire housing situation fell apart shortly after my departure. I had the landlord bugging me for rent money for a solid three or four months after I left, but he didn't follow through on any kind of lawsuit.
And that is the worst roommate I've ever had.