I will give the cliff notes of 4 months of my life, partially because the full story is too long and partially because I have made an agreement with the person not to mention many details and still want to show that I am the better man by sticking to my end of the deal even if we both know that he could never measure up to much.
Now then, the basic scenario was that my roommate would complain constantly about how much of a slob I was. This was because I kept my laundry in a pile next to my bed and would stuff it all in a bag when I would carry it all out to the washing machines. This was unacceptable to him. My clothes needed to be out of sight. The reason why this bugged me was because I kept the rest of my side of the room nicely organized for a 19 year old (e.g. books in my book case, made bed, no food left sitting out) while he let fruit peels rot on his desk, in his closet, spread out his mess so that the only place his books weren't were the surface he needed to occupy at the time. He would also hand his wet towels and swimsuits all over the room to dry. His friends would barge into the room like it was theirs and would drink and do drugs despite the fact that I explained that I do not partake and am not getting in trouble on our dry campus because they could not be bothered to relocate out of our room. I was still relatively fine with the set up. I wasn't happy, but I wasn't about to kill anyone.
Then came inauguration weekend (we were in D.C.).
First off he was annoyed because I had the gaul to lock the door when just about every room had a stranger living in it and no one was going to be in our room watching over our two laptops, my tv, my printer, etc. because he had lost his key and didn't want to spend the $70 to replace it.
Then he woke me up at three in the morning (I go to sleep somewhere around midnight usually). He was complaining that some noise from my side of the room was distracting him. I quickly made sure my laptop and phone were on silent and unplugged my printer and tried to go back to sleep. But he kept me up by talking to me asking if something was the matter. I told him I was happily asleep and trying to go back to sleep. But he kept talking. Finally, I explained to him that I, "am trying to fucking go back to sleep." That was when I found out I could not curse at him. Why? Don't ask me. For some reason I am supposed to respect him. He got up and started threatening me becuase I had the gaul to swear in front of him. I left the room. I live with the guy, but I am not his punching bag. I do not have to put with his tempter tantrums because he hasn't grown up.
The thing that really got me was that two days later we had a conversation with our Resident Assistant. She recommended that we each tell the other one way to change to make the living condition more bearable until one of us moved out. He said that he was perfect and didn't think he needed to change. Ugh.
