Roommate Chronicles 2: Too Close for Comfort

In the second semester of my freshman dorm life I got a new roommate. This one was also white but, unlike my last roommate, this new girl wasn’t into keeping to herself. She was an extrovert who did wild shit like talk to me everyday, wanted to meet up on campus for lunch, and she even came to a poetry event with me. Homegirl was nice and all but she almost immediately got the impression that we were friends, while I had the impression that we were temporarily sharing a space and nothing more. I could tell she thought we were closer than what we were based off of the type of things she’d tell me and ask of me. And I, not being nearly as mean and blunt as people give me credit for, would almost always say yes.
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!Her main thing was that she had this older boyfriend, he was like 25 and she couldn’t have been older than 19. Every once in awhile dude wouldn’t text her for a day or two or his ex would like one of his instragram pics, and you know who had to hear all about it all night long? Moi. And I mean she would be crying, hooting and hollering, cussing and carrying on, confiding in me like I was her bestie and I almost never knew how to respond because 90% of the time I didn’t think his actions were that big a deal.


The first audacious request that I agreed to was to accompany her to a spinning class. Spinning, for those who are unaware, is a torture system masquerading as exercise in which you sit on a nutass immobile bike and pedal to pop music, while a skinny, overcaffeinated white girl yells at you, until your legs feel like you can no longer walk on them. The seats on those things alone are borderline racist...but I digress. Now it would be one thing if this request stemmed from something like, her wanting a workout buddy. I could halfway understand that. But no, her boyfriend’s sister actually invited her to the class as a peace offering cause the two of them didn’t really get along, and she asked me to come along to serve as a buffer.


Bitch, what? How am I gonna serve as a buffer between a shawty that I barely know and a shawty that I don’t know at all? On top of that, the class was at 6:00 in the morning. But me, being the polite accommodating idiot that I am, agreed to go with her anyway. Then, when my roommate and I got to the class, the only seats left were one right next to the sister and one all the way in the back. So here I am, at this ungodly hour, in a spinning class that I don’t even want to be at, pedaling ALONE in the back.


The next audacious requests came back to back and trust me, y’all really have to hold onto your seats for this. Midway through the semester my roommate’s boyfriend up and disappeared. Wouldn’t respond to her texts or calls and I think he blocked her on social media too. No explanation or anything. And this wasn’t just some guy she had been talking to for a few months who igged her, they were in a whole relationship for a couple years. He just dipped out of nowhere and, of course, I had to hear about it. Every. Single. Night. Her main grievance was that she had clothes and things at his apartment and if the relationship was assumedly over, she wanted her stuff back. But there was no way for that to happen if he was rejecting all forms of contact with her.
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One night she was complaining my ears off about it and got so riled up that she needed to go outside for a smoke. So she asked me to come outside with her. Audacious request #1. This girl deadass asked me to leave our 11th floor dorm room, go outside in the middle of the night, stand in the freezing cold, and inhale her second hand smoke while she repeated the same complaints I’d been hearing ALL WEEK. But again, my sweet dumb ass sat out there with her.


This is where the real fun began.

During her smoke filled vent session, this bitch had the nerve to ask me if I would help her break into her boyfriend’s apartment and get her stuff. I kid you not. Audacious request motherfucking #2. Now I might be sweet and dumb, but I ain’t that sweet and dumb. I swiftly, and even kindly, told her that that was a bad idea, a crime, and a couple material possessions aren’t worth the risk. I told her I didn’t feel comfortable doing that and I didn’t think she should do it either. Even though she had me all the way fucked up, I was still looking out for her best interest too. And then she had the nerve to say I could just be the look out while she broke in.

BITCH I’M NOT ABOUT TO BE OUT HERE THELMA AND LOUISE-ING IT WITH YOU!

What I should’ve said was this: “So let me get this straight, you want me to help you break into this white man’s house, so his white neighbors can see my Black ass, call the cops, they come, mistake my elbow for a gun and shoot me? And now my name is a hashtag?? Over your white nonsense??? HA! I think the hell not. Breaking and entering is a privilege reserved for close friends and I DON’T FUCKING KNOW YOU. Now get up out my face ‘fore I sock you. Weirdo.” But ya know...hindsight is 20/20.