Let us rejoice

The day has come.  Praise the Lord, Charles Darwin, the Great Bambino and all things almighty!   The bitch is moving out.  Yeah that bitch, my nightmare, giant slutbag of a roommate, who I've been living with for the past year.  SHE'S FINALLY MOVING OUT.  Dreams really do come true.  Let's all jump around in celebratory concentric circles while eating oreos.

What will I miss most? It's hard to say.  Maybe all the weird crap that's slowly migrated into the living room as she takes over shelf space with her plastic sword and wig collection.  That's right, wig collection.  Maybe her bringing people back from the bars at night, with one who walks into my room when I'm bed, while the other vomits all over my freshly cleaned toilet.  I'll definitely miss her string of gentlemen friends, who she is always so polite as to go out of her way and introduce me to.  I'll particularly miss the almost-boyfriend who strongly smells of cologne, mixed with ball sweat.  I'll miss smelling him when I come in the door at night, and definitely miss smelling him on Mr. Meowington (Hey Mr. Sweatyballs, what the hell were you doing with my cat?!).

A couple of weeks ago I overheard her phone conversation.  The only way I really know anything about her anymore is through overheard conversations and Facebook.  I feel ok about that.  I heard her say she was fired from her waitressing job.  She also said "I need to return to my previous profession, I'm tried of being poor."  This of course led me to believe her past profession was prostitution (because as Bernard later pointed out, she doesn't have the body to be a stripper).  She then went into a very graphic story of how she met a guy from okCupid on Thursday for lunch, and then proceeded to spend the rest of the weekend having unprotected sex with him until Sunday evening.  She also talked about how she's going on a cross-country trip with a guy she met while on a recent trip to Argentina (Because there's nothing like a crosscountry trip with some foreign creeper you met in a bar and knew for a couple days). Since I'm sharing quarters with an ex-prostitute/giant slutbag, I'm now blaming my own HPV on the toilet seat.  It's the only explanation, really.

It is true, she hasn't been all that bad the past few months.  Aside from being unemployed and therefore home all the time.  Her number of gentlemen callers has also been low, relatively speaking.  Bernard moving in, seems to have a subduing effect on her, causing her to keep to herself.  Maybe this is because Bernard likes to make her feel stupid (not because he's an asshole, but because she tries really, really hard to sound smart and that annoys him).  Bernard and I are hoping to throw a party for her departure.  It will be like a farewell party, except the person leaving won't actually be invited.  We've been planning this since the first week Bernard moved in, theme and all.   Yep, dreams really do come true.

It's not me, it's you.

Six months ago I was online looking for a mate. A roommate. It was a process that can only be compared to online dating. But worse. For being a bit of commitment phobe, meeting someone and immediately taking the relationship to the next level and moving in together is a bit much. So it's no surprise that 6 months later, I'm ready for a breakup. Because I like to avoid confrontation I shall put it in a letter.

Dear Roommate,
I'm sorry to say the the ship has sailed on this relationship. I'm just not in a place in my life that I can/want to give you what you need. I just need to focus on my career/personal life (that doesn't involve you) right now/for the forseeable future. I just hope that once you get your shit out of this apartment ASAP, we can still be (facebook) friends. It's not me, it's you.

1. You're too needy. Honestly, when I come home for a 10 hour work day, starving and tired, the last thing I want to do is talk to you. You do not need to come out of your room when you hear me come home. I realize you are home alone all day doing whatever it is that you do and have few friends and therefore crave human attention, but you are not my cat, I do not have to spend time with you.
2. It's in extreme poor taste to peek into my room just to give me a bad time about how messy it is. Sure you can keep yours clean (congratulations) but you never ever clean the rest of the apartment. This is why I said no to your idea of hiring someone (do it yourself, lazy ass) and implemented a cleaning schedule. That was for you! And you know what even when you do "clean", you still suck at it!
3. Speaking of sucking, you are a giant slutbag. You know you are a giant slutbag and like to tell me your giant slutbag adventures. News flash: I don't care! You only tell me these things for attention, because you are an attention-seeking whore. Literally. I've seen you start stripping in the middle of the kitchen because your man-0-the-month was in a serious debate with our other roommate (i.e. not fawning over you). Clearly you have serious daddy issues but the slew of men you've brought around is disturbing and dangerous. Stop meeting someone on OkCupid and sleeping with them on the first date. Seriously, it's unsafe! (but thanks for at least not bringing any of those home...that I know of). And while we're on the subject, morning shower sex at 8am on a Wednesday in the one bathroom we have in this apartment is NOT ok!
   
4. I'm embarrassed to introduce you to my friends. When you met the Mutual Friend you announced you're fuck buddy was coming over, then announced that you were going to have sex, which you proceeded to do loudly, while we awkwardly sat in the living room. When you met Mary, you thought it was appropriate to play "Let me guess your heritage" (FYI you cannot tell the difference between Korean and Chinese etc, so stop pretending you can). When you met June, you assumed she was Mary because you saw an Asian. Asians do not look alike (especially these two) and I now think you are racist. I know you really like my friends, but my friends really do not like you.
   
5. Stop using my shit. And especially stop using my shit and lying about it. I know you ruined my kitchen towels and proceeded to throw them away. Let me clarify, I know you ruined my deceased grandmother's kitchen towels that Violet and I got for her from Ireland and proceeded to throw them away without telling me and later lying about it. Also, I know you and/or your man-o-the-month were using my toothpaste and then lied about it. Firstly, you should have asked before you started using it (for who knows how long, I only noticed because you started leaving the cap open). And secondly, that grosses me out. Unless I'm related to you, friends with you, or making out with you, I do not share my toothpaste! And since I'm pretty sure that both of you have STDs of the mouth, I now have hidden toothpaste (and a toothbrush for good measures).
6. Either you're extremely stupid (possibly) or just don't care about it, but you seriously need a lesson on recyclables. Since I'm the one who usually takes out the recycling I feel the need to tell you this. Recyclables: milk jugs, aluminum cans, newspapers, etc. Nonrecyclables: pillow cases, tissues, tampon applicators, used condoms. And yes, those are things you've tried to recycle. Please stop. Condoms can't even be reused let alone recycled.

So if you're still following, I'm breaking up with you because you're a dirty, inconsiderate, lying slutbag. Good riddance.

Your (facebook) friend,
Grayer