The following piece is satire and should not be misconstrued as actual reporting. Any resemblance to a student, staff or faculty member is fictional.
Help! My roommate’s boyfriend sleeps over every night, and I HATE him! How do I get them to stop without making things weird?
ERIC: You need to invite him into your historical re-enacting club. Don your breaches, tricornered hat and long-ass overcoat and enter the room, demanding to speak to General Washington about the British armada’s latest movements. To maximize authenticity, it is advised to abstain from bathing for 6 or 7 months prior. Your roommate’s boyfriend will likely be repulsed and flee. Or, he could be really into it, and then you gain a new friend and maybe polycule? If for some reason you don’t have a colonial foot soldier outfit on hand, you can always improvise. Put on something theatrical and you can be “guy at play where Lincoln was shot.” Or, if you have brown shoes and a brown shirt, put those on and whatever color pants and you can be “sandwich that guy ate before assassinating Archduke Franz Ferdinand.” It’ll all be worth it for him leaving — or maybe polycule.
DOMENIC: I’ve seen this before. Hope you were paying attention in history class, because you’ve got yourself a classic example of a civil war. Imagine your room is Vietnam, and your roommate’s bed is the northern capital of Hanoi (this may be easier depending on the vegetation you’ve let grow) — your roommate’s boyfriend is like the Soviet Union, providing vital manpower to the cause. In this case, one manpower. To counter, you need to find your United States. Now, history tells us this will drag on for far too long, will possibly cause the needless death of millions and your benefactor will eventually dip and claim victory. Good luck, though!
TEDDI: Whether you like it or not, things will get weird. My suggestion is that you become really into him sleeping over, a little too into it. Ask your friend, “Hey! When is ____ coming over next???” Text them about him relentlessly. “OMG! He looked sooooo happy in your photo dump. How was visiting his family in New Jersey?” Pay attention to the little things: His Nanna’s Facebook page, his recent Spotify listening history (who listens to Simon and Garfunkel directly after Drake?) and his Instagram reposts (okay, we get it, Family Guy makes fun of everyone, move on). You’re going to have to temporarily put aside your distaste for their co-sleeping proclivity — for the fun of the game and the good of the roommarriage.
FAIZA: Be the unofficial photographer. Every time he's over, document him. Aggressively and openly. “Oh my god, Rendon, you’re sitting on the couch! Let me get a picture!” click “Rendon, you’re drinking water! Hold on, the lightning is perfect!” click “Rendon, you’re existing in my peripheral vision! This one’s for the archives!” Create a photo album on your phone called “Rendon’s Visits (Emotional Support Boyfriend Edition).” Then, start narrating the album updates in real time. “New entry: Rendon near outlet.” “Rare sighting: Rendon attempting personality.” “This one’s called Rendon, unsupervised.” Whenever he asks what you're doing, say calmly, “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just for memories.” Put him in mildly embarrassing categories: “Rendon consuming resources,” “Rendon after 11:59 PM,” “Rendon, unpaid intern era.” If he’s on the couch, zoom out and say, “I’m just capturing the full impact.” If he’s in the kitchen, whisper, “invasive species.” And at the end of the night, look at your horrible roommate and go, “We’re at 67 Rendons this month. Wow, that’s growth, and Rendon really rendered himself comfortable.” When he asks what that means, just smile and say, “Oh, nothing. I just think Rendon should render elsewhere.” Then take one last photo and label it “Rendition Complete.”
JASMINE: Bring home your own man (doll with radio attached to mouth) and light up some scented candles — I highly recommend the Yuzu Blossom from the H&M home section in Georgetown, because I have a feeling you can’t afford the Diptyque candles down the street. Put on some records and put it to a sensible decibel level, 99dB should do. This will establish that your living space is also used in the same capacity, and now it’s all about puffing chests and huffing candles until one or all of you comes blowing down (Safely on the knees, of course!).
AIDAN: The rules of a seven-roommate-living-situation are indistinguishable from the state of natural chaos that exists in the wild. In my experience, it’s best to adopt a series of tactics used by natural predators to resolve your issue. For example, try looking at him with the thermal vision of a snake until he becomes irreparably weirded out. Perhaps you could gain a couple feet and a couple hundred pounds to become more intimidating to him. If none of that works, introduce a more feeble target for prey, perhaps the peerless satire writer Jack Hyacinth Leary.
INDIA: The issue here is your friend’s boyfriend, so baby, let’s crack that egg. You know what they say, inside every sad man is a beautiful woman begging to break free. There’s only a few vials of strategically placed estrogen between you, her and the queen of your dreams.
JACK: Like all problems, the obvious solution here is to never directly address it. Make sure that everyone is always up to date on your deteriorating living situation, except your roommate, who will only hear occasional passive aggression and secondhand rumors. Slap on a smile as more and more of your free time is spent with a man who has never washed his sweatshirt! Watch as you repeatedly blow past what you thought was your breaking point, as the noises coming from the other side of the room grow more concerning by the night! Communication schmaroication!
This article was written by the Seagle staff. It was edited by Domenic Dipietro, Aidan Dowell, Addie DiPaolo, and Gabrielle McNamee. Copy Editing done by Avery Grossman and Arin Burrell.
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