This one’s an oldie but a goodie. It’s absolutely nauseating. An open letter to a former roommate. Here goes:
Hey asshole,
I guess what I’d really like to know is if you’re proud of yourself now. It’s true, I was in denial about how bizarrely fixated you really were with me in high school. Following me to college was the next logical step wasn’t it?
I told you that all I could be was a friend to you. I ignored the red flags because I was silly enough to believe that you would grow the hell up and act like an adult if we were roommates. Yeah, that’s right…ROOMMATES. Okay? We were not lovers. And we weren’t “shacking up” or “playing house” or whatever you think it was.
See, here’s the problem, bitch. I’m straight. I was straight then and I’m straight now. I didn’t want to “give it a chance” or discover the joys of lesbianism with you. Rubbing up against me or slobbering on me wasn’t going to change my mind either. Your breath was really revolting by the way. Got it? And no, I’m not a bigot. I’m just NOT GAY. I don’t think you wanted a real relationship with anyone in any case. A sex doll would work better for you. It has no opinions, never says no and doesn’t care one way or the other about what you do to it.
Your friends were…interesting to say the least. Did you have any that were normal? Any that weren’t immature, emotionally violent or furries in training?
Also, I wasn’t crazy about the clogged toilet. Flushing your tampons down the toilet and clogging up the pipes repeatedly should have clued you in. Why couldn’t you just put them in a trash bag and take them down to the dumpster? And no, I wasn’t interested in picking up your bits of pubic hair lying in the shower drain either.
Here’s the bottom line: agreeing to be your roommate was probably one of the worst choices I ever made, with disastrous long reaching consequences. And I sincerely hope I never see you or hear from you ever again.
