Friends, there are roommate horror stories, and then we have the stuff of true terror.
Mine is a nightmare tale on a colossal scale – it’s Single White Female, The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, Fatal Attraction, The Sixth Sense – and even a The Little Silence of the Lambs – all rolled into one.
So when New York Magazine last month published Worst Roommate Ever by Alex Miller, I scoffed. And I chortled.
And I said with a mad glint in my eye, “Hold my beer”.
A fascinating (and terrifying) story about a “a serial squatter” who relished the anguish of those who had taken him in without realizing that they would soon be pulled into a terrifying battle for their home. https://t.co/UiuCj3Z6T1
— Baradwaj Rangan (@baradwajrangan) March 3, 2018
Let’s compare the stories.
Miller advertises for a roommate and very soon, a lawyer called Jed Creek becomes ensconced in her home. At this point, it’s relevant to understand the true meaning of ‘ensconced’ – it means that person is very comfortable and pleased with themselves and has no intention of ever leaving. And in my case, of ever leaving me alone.
At first, there’s no sign of danger. It goes swimmingly. Jed Creek cared for his pets and was seemingly decent, but reserved, company.
Same thing happened to me – at first, my roommate barely spoke a word to me, but it was a comfortable, amicable silence. We knew our roles. It was all my dreams come true; I was finally sharing a house with someone I really liked having around.
But then, just like Jed Creek, he got bolder.
Miller noticed the early red flags: Creek stole light bulbs from the living room, and the chairs from the dining room.