Memory Lane

I spent some time with Dawgz today and we spent a little more time than normal strolling down memory lane.  Different people we went to college with came up  in the conversation, and because we were talking about college, it was a foregone conclusion that The Roommate From Hell would take center stage.

Sadly, she was mine.   There isn’t enough space on the internet to categorize every single thing wrong with Minerva (I’m going to leave her anonymous).  Looking back with the wisdom of experience, I can say without too much anger, I think the largest of the problems was she was simply not ready to have been away from home.

Another problem that wasn’t her fault is that I went away to this college after having been on my own for quite a while.  I went the second semester of my sophomore year; and though I had lived at home in the interim between graduation and then, I had been treated as an adult, for all intents and purposes.  It was very hard for me to adjust from that to the closely supervised atmosphere of a private religious college.    Actually, I remember describing it to my mother whilst home on a weekend as “it’s like a …concentration camp.”

This combination of people was .. I started to say “like oil and water”,  but “gasoline and flame” is probably a better descriptor.   I am not terribly tolerant and patient, either.  While I said very little to Minerva (on any subject), keeping my thoughts to myself made my resentment of “the little things” build.

As I sit here and type, I see how perhaps for someone with a different personality, she might not have been such an utter and complete nightmare.  I see better now how my own things made her seem worse than she actually was.  I had always had my own room, my own privacy, and a lot of “alone” time.  I was unused to having very little of that.  So her need to inform constantly of her doings might not bug someone else as much.

“so.. I’m gunna go to the student union n stuff… and like I think I’m gunna study n stuff… and I have 2 dollars so I will probably get you know like a snack n stuff… I should be back here by like….10 n stuff..”

I would sometimes try my best to at least mutter ” mhm,” (on days when I was feeling particularly charitable) or just ignore her (most of the time) because that seemed more polite than going with brutal honesty and screaming “I DIDN’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANY OF THAT”  I can remember burying my head in Dawgz shoulder and just whimpering “I just don’t care N STUFF.”

Now that I’ve painted this picture of myself as the monster and her as the misunderstood waif, … Yeah, No,  I still say she was a cretin.  Anyway. The particular incident that had Dawgz banging on the table and howling laughter in the restaurant today as we remembered. ..

I had a friend, Jeffrey, we’ll say.   Jeffrey was just a buddy because Jeffrey was incredibly gay.  I don’t remember how it worked it out or why, but one night, Jeffrey was visiting me and we were laying on my bed together watching a movie with the lights off.  I also don’t remember what movie we were watching because its irrelevant to the story.  Suffice to say, we’re watching it and Minerva burst in loudly, flipped on the overhead lights with enthusiasm (because that was how she rolled.  That I *might* have been sleeping would have *never* hit her world.) , and started to speak…

Then she actually glanced over at my side and saw Jeffrey sprawled out on my bed.  Her mouth dropped all the way open, her eyes got huge, and she burst into these loud braying sobs.  I sit up, stare a moment, blink, and then just say “……………what is your problem?”


“uhm………………….do what?”  I seriously had *no* idea what the hell she was talking about. The obvious conclusion hasn’t even hit me yet.  At that point, she was bawling so obnoxiously she couldn’t even speak. She just POINTS over to something on her side of the room.

The background information on this moment in the story was that her side of the room was so amazingly filthy; just a mountain of trash, unwashed laundry and ….crap. I think I had just trained myself to never even glance over there.  Because while I’m not a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination, my half of the room looked like Martha Freakin Stewart compared to that lunacy.

But because she was *pointing*, Jeffrey and I sort of followed the finger and there on the wall, never having been noticed heretofore: a little handmade poster: I heart Jeffrey Smith.  IN GLITTER!!!!! (I swear on Chanel, this is true.)

I just bust out laughing. I couldn’t stop. A lot of it was because *then* I never understood HOW I could have missed something that ….clowntastically awesome.   Jeffrey, however, (rightly, I suppose) was finding the whole thing incredibly awkward and started putting on his shoes.  This is when Minerva finds her voice and her rage, evidently:


“You never had him. He’s GAY.”

That doubled the awkward factor because then Jeffrey turns around and looks at me all aghast (I really had no idea he was still “IN THE CLOSET”)  and is all like “WHO ELSE KNOWS?”

“uhm… EVERYONE? Well, evidently everyone ‘cept for… Weeping Wanda, over there”

So Jeffrey left all kinds of offended.  We made up, but needless to say, all future movie dates were in HIS room.

I sort of felt bad in a way for the fallout of that disaster.  I never told anyone about that but Dawgz and she flat-out told me “yeah, I won’t repeat that because ……it’s not that I don’t believe you but…yeah YOU HAFTA BE MAKING THAT SHIT UP” “I’m not.  promise. True story!”   But if my Dawgz doubted me, I wasn’t going to risk “spreading fiction” further.

Jeffrey, however, told EVERYONE.   Later, when Minerva became the butt of nearly every joke, Dawgz was just all “holy shit! yeah.. I hadn’t believed you.”  “I TOLD YOU, WOMAN, WHO COULD MAKE THAT UP?”




~ by Layla on April 27, 2014.

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