Roommateship: Dilemma

I’ve been sitting on this post for a couple of days. It wasn’t a post sitting in Drafts but it was an idea that was first conceived after a conversation with one of my 8 year old patients and metastasized after events from this weekend. An issue that was weighing on me from work has now been resolved and consequently cleared some mental space in which I can release some more thoughts as it relates to my living situation.

ME: Ms. Clarke is feeling tired today.
HIM: maybe you can take a nap when you get home.

ME: That sounds like a good idea, because I am going straight home after speech.

HIM: you don’t have a son?

ME: No.

HIM: so you don’t have anybody. just you by yourself?

ME: I have a roommate.

Many of you readers and friends wonder and ask how things are going with my roommate. In reality things are “cool.” I don’t have a roommate by choice. I don’t know that anyone wants or choses a roommate, if they can afford living without one. When I first applied for my 2 bedroom apartment, I was ecstatic about many things (namely, the cat I was going to adopt). Mostly, the freedom of having my own space. A couple of months after moving in, I enjoyed the space, however I decided it was TOO MUCH space for me. Then, of course, I realized that depression and living alone don’t necessarily help one another. There would be times were the apartment would be sooo quiet, and I would sleep hours away. No one around to check on me, to wake me up, or to talk to.

The financial responsibilities started piling up. And the stress of paying the bills by myself was making me enjoy my own space less and less. What have I gotten myself into? I was spending more than half my paycheck on rent! How could I be so dumb signing that lease?

I had gotten a 2 bedroom after the leasing office offered an available apartment. The difference between a one bedroom and a 2 bedroom was less than $20. My own home office? Sure! When it was time to consider my options, the 2 bedroom proved a great idea and gave me the opportunity to rent a room out. The hardest part would be screening strangers for roommates. I searched local church classifieds for “Christian” young women looking for rooms to rent.

I had at least 4-6 interviewees. There was one who ate food I had “fixed” and sipped a glass of wine with me. I chose her, and she chose me.

My roommate and I are opposites.

She’s a girly-girl, who loves fashion and clothing. She has bags and bags of clothing.

I have boxes and boxes of graduate school paperwork.

She’s loud and has lots of girlfriends.

I don’t.

But most importantly, I am a considerate person when it comes to noise in a shared space.

This past Saturday night, I was woken up from a delicious slumber at 4am to loud giggles, walking and banter about finding food to eat. My roommate had a friend over from New York. They came in drunk from the club.

I didn’t come out of the room until like 20 minutes after they arrived. It was blatantly inconsiderate and although I hate confrontation I also love sleep more. Before I could say much, she said “Hey girl, I didn’t realize you were here.”

Uhhh. I do live here, right?

I didn’t say that but I wanted to. For all the times I want to wake up early on Saturday mornings and blast some inspirational music to make it easier to bare heading to work. For all the times I have offered food I prepared, or shared something I actually hate sharing with people. I was angry. I am angry. I operate under “she’s home” unless there’s proof that she’s not when I enter my apartment. Is that a bad thing?

Next morning I get an apology text from her (something about “drunken moments” and “I didn’t think you were home.”). I didn’t respond because I feel like she should say something face-to-face.

Am I taking it too far? What would you do/feel?

Have you ever lived with an inconsiderate roommate?

Roommate-With-Courtesy,

She

Sam, I Am

Click for credit

A couple of weeks ago, I sat at the bus stop on my way to school.

There was a white man with dark hair and glasses sitting on the bench. He smiled. I smiled (that generic hello, older adult smile). He looked to be in his late 50’s.

He initiated conversation. I responded.

He spoke with a strong accent and I was curious. He asked me where I was from. I told him to guess.

“Latin America.” BINGO.

He informed me he was from Italy, started his own company here. I don’t recall the details. He asked me if I liked Italian food.

“I love food period.”

WAIT.

Is this man coming on to me? Why must I be so paranoid? Why can’t an older man just be looking for a friend?

Conversation continued.

He told me all about the different types of lasagna’s from different parts of Italy. Not like in America, where lasagna just refers to a generic type and the only difference is what you stuff in it.

Would I like to try his food sometime?

“Ok.”

So I took Sam from Italy’s number. His last name was so long, I just took his first two letters. “El”

Maybe I should have taken his complete las name, to Google my paranoia away? Am I being too paranoid? What happened to following your gut instinct on someone’s trustworthiness? I don’t get the creep factor from this gentleman.

Sam from Italy lives in my neighborhood, so I have run into him about a handful of times already. Most recently, he was walking his dog Beba.

He seems like a nice grandfather figure. Am I being naive or should I ask him more personal questions when I see him like who he lives with, etc? And not take his dinner invitation, at least not alone?

What about the question of culture? Are we too paranoid in this American culture? Could a homemade dinner invitation mean something different in Italy than it does in America?

Feedback welcomed.