Adventures with the worst flatmate I ever had..

The road to finding an ideal flatmate/roommate can be long, arduous and littered with lunatics.

Wait, what? 

I have a long-running history of meeting strange people, but in January of 2014 my snap decision to move into a house resulted in a terrible flatmate experience. He was not a bad man, as such - just a severely dreadful guy guy to share a small flat with.

 Almost immediately after moving in, I knew I'd screwed up.

This is a cautionary tale of why you should investigate someone (thoroughly) before you move in with them.  

Previous experience

While nobody (myself included) are devoid of shortcomings - there are some people who just suck at sharing a house.

Over my six or so years of flatting, I've had some incredible flatmates and some absolute arseholes. One giant hippopotamus of a guy I lived with in my first flat (when I was 18) had a few nasty habits. I wouldn't have minded him at all, if he wasn't incredibly negative and frequently made offensive, prejudicial snipes at my fellow flatmates (who were from Japan and Malaysia) and I. He was from a small rural country town in the central Otago region and would have been around... 140kg or so.
The most exercise I saw him doing was walking to the corner shop to get more food to stuff his face with. Sometimes, in our company he'd eat a litre of vanilla custard from a cardboard carton and when he got to the bottom, he ripped it open to lick out the remnants. Living with his negativity and general arseholery regularly was a bit much, so I whip-tailed it back to my parent's place after about two months.    

An artist's depiction of a former-flatmate of mine

Why it pays not to rush decisions..

At the start of this year I had been looking for a flat in Wellington for more than a week. I had just returned from my New Years' holidays and I was crashing at the place of some good friends of mine, whose place was empty following their breakup.  All my stuff was packed into boxes and suitcases but I felt a little pressure to find a new room. 

I started out with overly optimistic expectations about who I would live with: "The flatmates will be friendly, we'll share meals while discussing our stock portfolios. There will be an en suite, every luxury available but the rent will be just half the market average."

After checking out several places and realising what I was looking for would be difficult (short-term, cheap, good location and reasonable flatmates), I lowered my aims, just a little. I knew I would leave New Zealand in just a couple of months and I wanted to find a place quick. I saw an ad in the local supermarket, contacted the guy and met him on the same day. His place was only 50 meters from my friend's apartment so it was but a hop, skip and jump away. He rolled up on his BMX: a Maori dude, clad in a stylish beanie and sunglasses combo. He was about 1.85m and of medium build with a close cut beard. He projected a friendly, relaxed and young vibe. One of his fingers was partially missing (from an incident with a lawnmower) and his other hand was slightly out of shape. *I later found out that had occurred in a car accident he'd had as a teenager hoon. Let's call him "L."
 

I found out he worked in a job cleaning cars and doing minor maintenance (and no judgement upon him for that). So off we went together to look at the apartment.

It was small, the shared bathroom and kitchen were a little grungy but the location was good, the room was big and had a beautiful view. We spoke for no more than half an hour but I felt decent vibes from him. The rent was reasonable, there was space for my car and motorbike and I could leave with only two weeks notice. I told him: "Seems good to me" and told him I could move in the next day. After I told him I was interested he asked me something that should have acted as a warning bell. "Do you have the money on you now bro?"
This struck me as an extremely strange thing to ask. Who the hell comes to check out a flat with 550 dollars in their pocket? I pushed my moment of doubt aside. That was to be a profoundly bad decision. 

The night I moved in

Having just finished lugging boxes, bags and my bed to the new place with the help of a friend, L came into my room as I was setting up. He noticed that I had two samurai swords in the corner of my room. One was given to me by an ex girlfriend (a replica from my favourite video game of all time) and the other from my sister (neither is sharp).

The swords in question..

He wondered over to one of the swords, took it in his hands and said, "They are pretty cool swords. Do you think I could maybe buy those off you when you leave?" 

The moment I knew I'd fucked up

I found his question a little unusual and said I probably wouldn't sell them but would let him know if I reconsidered. 
He then said the kind of thing you never want your flatmate to say: "The cops took my samurai sword off me."

I took a moment to digest this as my blood went cold.. "Okay, why was that?"

So began his story...

*I have no way of guaranteeing its veracity, but I struggle to think why someone would make this shit up.

How I felt at that moment

He told me that one night about six years ago L had heard loud thumps coming from his lounge in the middle of the night. At the time, he was living in a place in New Zealand called Turangi, which, it's fair to say, has a few problems. L heard multiple bangs and crashes, leapt out of bed and went into the lounge.... 

Once there, L saw his room mate, who was a small guy being held up against the wall by a muscled, extremely aggressive man (known to L). There was blood spattered on the wall and the hulking guy (apparently high on meth) was pummeling L's flatmates face. L and this guy apparently had beef and the big guy was beating the small guy over a disagreement or perceived insult from earlier that night at a bar. 

L yelled: "Oiiiiiii!!!" The intruder shifted his gaze dropped the small guy and turned towards L. He gave a war cry and charged. It just so happened that L was wielding a sharp samurai sword. As he lunged L slashed the intruder across the face.

The slashee screamed (naturally) and the police were called. 

This is the best Google image search I could find to approximate L

and ended up with a large scar but didn't sustain any life threatening injuries. and the although the big guy was known to police as being violent my flatmate was charged with assault with a deadly weapon.

He was vague on details but it took several years to come to court and he eventually got home detention for two years. 

How I imagine things went down that night..

 He seemed quite authentic through this story and all I could think is "Why the fuck are you telling me this after I just met you?"
I didn't personally feel threatened by him because in his mind he was defending himself but it was obviously a disturbing story. Once he'd left the room, I did what any normal person would and laughed hysterically to myself. 

Like this..

 I had already paid him my bond and a week's rent in advance so I didn't move out that night. I decided to see how things went.                                    

SHIT HE DID IN THE FOLLOWING TWO WEEKS (they get progressively worse)

* He cooked and left the stove dirty and pots with food in it - every single night. 

* Told me that he'd converted the lounge into the second bedroom and the landlord didn't know. "She leaves me to myself and that suits me just fine." (Essentially he wasn't allowed to be subletting).

* He ate a third of a loaf of my nice bread. He told me he had because "he didn't have any" even though we live just round the corner from a supermarket. I wouldn't have cared if he had asked. He said he would replace it and brought a loaf of budget bread, instead of the same bread he had used.

* He wouldn't go halves with me to get internet in the flat, saying that I could use his 2gb a month portable stick if I needed to do something online.

* He wouldn't buy council rubbish bags (which cost about $13 for five)- instead insisting that everything can be recycled. He put nearly everything into recycling bags (which are free) including ciggarete ash stating: "The recycling staff are paid to sort through it". He said any extra rubbish could be "buried in the back garden" like we were some sort of back-country hillbillies.    
* I was woken at 4.30am on the weekend. My window was open and I could hear people talking next year and very loud bass. I was extremely furious so started putting on my clothes to go next door and tell the neighbors to please shut the fuck up. I opened my door to see it was my roommate blasting his stereo! I asked him to turn it down and he eventually did after I asked him twice

* He constantly smoked weed and ciggarettes in his room which made the house stink.

* He didn't pay the power bill and one day I came home to the room to find the house in pitch darkness. "Sorry bro," he said dejectedly. "I didn't pay the bill on time."

* I woke up one morning to hear a strange noise in the kitchen. The door was closed. I thought it might be a power tool and cause I felt awkward running into my flatmate, I returned to the room. I was getting hungry so I knocked on the door and heard my flatmate say "just a minute." A few seconds later he steps out of the kitchen in his underwear and there's a pile of hair on the floor of the kitchen. The guy WAS SHAVING HIS FUCKING PUBES, IN THE KITCHEN! He went into the shower but he hadn't cleaned up properly and there was a pile of his body hair on the floor as I made some toast. 

                                                                    The final straw

Although I obviously had it in mind to leave the house ASAP, an event sealed the deal and I wanted to get out pronto. 

One night he came home to see me cleaning his dishes and said "It's nice to have a tidy flatmate" - I said as gently as possible: "You know, it would be nice if you cleaned your pots after you cook." He got extremely defensive but not aggressive. "I work hard and I just wanna relax when I get home" he said. I said that was fine but because it was a small kitchen if he leaves a mess I have to deal with it when I use the kitchen. He said he'd never asked me to clean and that I left the dishes on the bench after washing them for "flies to land on." "But they're your dishes!" I said. 

He then "you've had every Tom, Dick and Harry" round visiting (to that point I'd had three people round to my room in two weeks). 

Am I not allowed visitors?" I said. 

"You are" said he, "but I have to trust that they're not going to steal my stuff."

I felt like saying "as if they'd steal any of your mingin crap" but it was such a ludicrous allegation that I looked at him as I was strolling out of the house and said "I'll be looking for a new place."

"Sweet as bro,"  he said. 

                                                             Lessons to be learned

My lesson is - ask more questions of someone before you move in. I was too quick to say yes. I still think he's basically an okay guy but we also come from totally different walks of life. It sounds like he's had a lot of shit happen to him and he had a teenage son he barely sees. 

On the other hand, he's a grown man who has had many years to learn the basics of living with someone but had no fucking clue.  My compassion could only stretch so far when he acted like an imbecile.

With flatmates, some problems can be overcome. You have to be able to adapt and compromise to different people's ways of living. But you always shouldn't feel miserable in your own home - so know when it's time to cut your losses and skedaddle. 

So remember - before you move in with someone always ask your next prospective room mate: "Have you slashed someone in the face with a samurai sword?"