Have you ever lived with an absolute nightmare?
My old flatmate moved out on March 16th, literally just before lockdown, and I am SO. HAPPY. ABOUT IT. I honestly count myself as the luckiest girl in the world that I didn’t have to spend quarantine with her!
She was so awkward, would never sit down and chill in the living room, left tea bags in the sink in a huge pile, never listened to anything I said or made any effort to, and had a secret boyfriend I never met who used to come over late at night and leave before morning. She gave him a different name and once accidentally called him by the wrong name. I think he must’ve been married with kids or something? As if I cared what his name was.
She was really funny about things and insisted we buy loads of furniture, but returned everything she bought so I furnished the whole flat. I think she was a master manipulator. And I am a pushover
We lived together on the proviso that she worked away a lot and so as I work from home anyway it would work well as I would have the shit bedroom but work in the living room during the day, then it transpired she never ever ever went to work and just literally was there constantly, doing nothing and making a massive mess. This was pre-lockdown when most people went to work – she just sat at home all day every day. I wanted to KILL HER!
When she moved out she took loads of random shit with her, even though she was moving in with her family – like took all the clingfilm and tin foil, that she didn’t even buy or need (not that it matters who bought it – why tf would you take the tinfoil with you?) She also took my set of brand new saucepans and my kettle. Fuming! ahaha.
I had an awful one at uni. He forced us to let her move in with his boyfriend (he wasn’t a student but he was) and when the council found out lied to the Landlord and said he moved out. Then he was utterly obsessed with washing clothes like constantly and putting tumble dryer on next door to my room.
One night during the middle of my final exams he put it on at 11pm, I turned it off and he put it back on. We started having an argument, I told him he had no say as he didn’t actually live there.
He was at the top of the stairs and threw him plate with food at me. I put my arm up to stop it hitting me and it smashed. I rang the police as he worked with nursery aged kids! He was trying to break my door down begging me not to. I was utterly terrified and a wreck the next day for my exam.
haha, sound abit like my old room mate, who asked to move in with me and he was living in a shitty rundown bedsit. Moved in tighter and after 1 month up and left, leaving me with 5 months rent to pay, and then was sneaking back to the house to steal from me including tampons of all things.
I needing up warning people not to take him in or treat her but they did. Her b/f at the time allowed her access to his bank account and she stole over £13,000 from him over a few months, and he had also moved into a Mutual friends house, were he sold her credit card and took out mobile phones and ordered things from the internet.
I had an awful one at uni too! There was a group of us decided to rent a house for second year and my friend asked if her friend (the nightmare flatmate) could move in with us. We thought why not.
He was a horrible person who hung out with real unsavoury types, had this horrific chav boyfriend who wasn’t a student just some drug dealer from the local town who he met whilst we were at uni.
These two had a big fight one time and split up.one day I was in the house by myself ( a big 5 bedroom property) when I hear someone trying to kick the door in.
They eventually broke the door down, but I don’t think they realised anyone was home I think they were gonna break in and take all our stuff.
I was terrified but I went and peered down over the bannister and the nasty ex boyfriend saw me and luckily for me, legged it we reported it to the police but I was too scared to say it was him for fear of what he might do to me.
Horrible time. Luckily we parted ways with her and I rented with someone else the next year.
I lived in communal housing for a year, it housed 7 mums with kids/single women and my God we had some really strange residents we had to share everything but our bedrooms with.
My favourite who was in my strange neighbours post was a woman in her 50s, a raging alcoholic who looked like a corpse, her entire family had disowned her and there was no wonder,
she used to have “threesomes” with two 19 year old gothic lads on the local graveyard and would come back boasting about it the next day, showing us her “shag rashes” and she constantly contorted her body in strange ways to look like a zombie, it was tiresome.
I had to pick her up once from outside she was rolling around on the floor with them cheap shocking pink clip in hair extensions hanging on for the ends of their life where she was boasting about giving the best blow jobs in the local vicinity.
I had another one who was very single white female with me, she was constantly borrowing all my clothes, right down to my knickers and doing her hair like mine.
She had filthy habits such as picking her nose and eating it and came out with some very strange stories one being that her ex boyfriend threw her out of a 5 storey window, breaking every bone in her body so she crawled away on her chin through a hole in the fence.
I found that very bizarre and very possibly untrue. She told me one day that she had told the lad she was seeing, who was a neighbour of ours that she had lied about having a miscarriage and she asked me to go along with it if he asked as to my knowledge she was infertile and would often break down in genuine, heartbreaking tears about being so.
Anyway upon talking to our neighbour who she was seeing, it turned out he had lost a baby who was only hours old and still 5 years down the line was still understandably traumatised.
My housemate had concocted this story to get closer to him about losing a 4 year old daughter the same year he lost his baby and went into detail about her dying of a terminal illness as a result of a rare congenital defect and had to change her feeding tubes every night.
The whole thing was sick and when found out she packed all her shit and disappeared leaving my bank account £250 lighter. She was reported and I got my money back.
There was also one who was a medium, she gave us all readings the night after moving in. She was so spot on she reduced us all to tears, she honestly told me things about myself and my dead mother only I would know and also predicted my future!
Had a nightmare housemate at second year of uni. She was such a nightmare no one wanted to live with her so wine and my friends agreed to it.
She was FILTHY. Never washed her dishes, literally left them until they were mouldy (this was when I refused to clean after her).
She would take up different activities and become obsessed with it and drop it for another activity in a week. She thought she was so much better than me for having a richer family even though they were all mental (her mum and dad ended up splitting and marrying their best friends who were also husband and wife!!??)
she never opened her windows. I remember she was really ill once so I took some stuff to her room as she was in bed and literally the stench was awful where she had built up old farty yucky air circulating the room for a few days she also would leave shits and period blood in the toilet and not clean. Safe to say we did not live with her the following year!
I lived in a couple of flatshares when I first moved to the big smoke. First one the flat mates weren’t actually too bad it was the flat and the landlord that were total nightmares.second one was really weird.
Total stoner lived on the third floor, shortly after I moved in came down to my room at about midnight, knocked on the door and told me how nice it was to meet me and wanted to get to know me better (slept with the door locked after that).
He’d smoke in the bathroom (next to my room) so the weedy smell would seep into my room.Then the two other lads decided I was the messy one (admittedly I can be a bit messy but not the extent they claimed).
IWas away for a week and the night I got back they told me it was me who makes all the mess I was like…haven’t been here so don’t think so.
Then when I moved out at the start of the month (agreement finished at the end of the month) I came back to clean my room just before I gave my keys back and OH WAIT the communal area was still a state. Not me then pals is it
I don’t want to put people off houseshares with strangers as I think it really helps with your independence but I’m never doing it again.
I had a flatmate who I thought was going to be great to live with. He was a keen cook and made lovely food from scratch, and he seemed to be a neat and tidy person
Turns out he wasn’t. He would make lovely food to share with me but leave mess everywhere and clean it up maybe once a week, if at all.
Curry all over the cooker, flour on the floor (he made pizza dough/bread from scratch). The flour was ridiculous, it seemed like more ended up on the floor than in the dough, and my socks/tights/feet would be covered as if I lived in a bakery
We decided that we would share the washing up and agreed that a ‘load’ could be considered as small as the items from one meal. In the interest of being fair, I would do the day’s washing up in the evening as there wouldn’t be much from breakfast/lunch.
Instead of following suit or even taking advantage, he would let it all pile up for days until it covered all the counter space in the kitchen. Then when we got flies in the summer, he blamed me. Yeah it my bananas that were the problem, not the food that was rotting on the unwashed pans
He would also leave his plates and cups on the tiny coffee table until there was no room for anything else. We had no dining table so would eat on the sofa and put drinks/condiments on the table. He didn’t understand why I did not want to eat my dinner right next to his manky breakfast stuff
Probably the worst thing was his farting habit. He managed to control it around others but would always subject me to it. They fucking stank. He’d make a nice dal which smelt wonderful while cooking, but his farts for the next day had exactly the same smell – just with the addition of shit.
I had to stop eating it. He’d usually cook enough for a few days so I’d spend half the week trying not to breathe. Sometimes he’d fart loads and I’d say “just go do a shit” and he would. I literally had to tell him to go to the toilet.
Another person who lived at our communal residence was an absolute hypochondriac and would phone herself ambulances for things such as headaches and insect bites. It was ridiculous.
Most of us there used to also smoke marijuana, the back garden was at least 150 foot long with a big brick shed at the end which is where the weed smokers would go.
One morning complained and said that the smoke the night before was coming out of the shed, travelling up the garden and coming through the windows and getting her stoned and because she is a hayfever sufferer the faintest of weed smoke will flare up her sinuses.
Now if she said she could smell it and the smell was bothering her I may have had some sympathy, but the levels of hypochrondria was too much and she was feeding me with crocks of shite.
The house next door was having some minor roofing repairs which lasted no more than a couple of days – she went out to a hardware shop and bought herself a pair of industrial workman goggles just incase anything fell in her eye. She looked a right tit sat in the garden with them on.
When I was doing my teacher training I lived off campus for the year with two guys who worked but seemed to think a postgrad student would be the key to lots of sexy student parties.
They picked the wrong person as I was working in my room till 10pm on lesson plans and marking but I digress.
One guy seemed to think putting his hubcaps in the dishwasher was ok so when I opened it, everything was covered in brake dust!
Another time I found a dildo in the dishwasher, nearly lost my lunch with that find! He used to bring back women for 1 night stands, sleep with them and make them sleep on the floor as he ‘didn’t want to share a bed’… one even slept under his desk!
Me and the other flat mate who was sweet usually had to make small talk with these girls while they waited for a cab. Awful.
When I was at uni i lived in a shared house my second year with some of the people i lived with in halls. One girl ended leaving the course so we had a couple of different people move in.
The first was a lad who was at college who would blast music and invite his mates over all hours of the night. He would steal your food and i often found him in my room with his mates going through my cds
…..the final straw was him blasting music at 4am, i got up to go to the loo to find pukes all over the bathroom. I got him kicked out as enough was enough.
The next person to move in was a french girl who was the scruffiest girl ever. I would clean up and the house would be sparkling for it to be trashed half hour later. She would use every single pot and pan and plate including ours and leave them all over the kitchen. I eventually just got mine out and put all hers in her room dirty. And sh broke my new blender
I had a few nightmare flatmates when I was at uni but the absolute WORST was when we needed one other person to share this house we found so my friend suggested this girl on her course so we thought fair enough, she looks quiet and innocent which she WAS.
But so innocent to the point where we watched a movie once and she was sat in the corner covering her bloody eyes when the couple on screen KISSED (she was not religious and is very white so it couldn’t have been culture!). We made her watch 50 shades and that was a whole new world for my girl.
She would also make boys coming over such a big issue and sometimes she would question why they were in my room when we have a living room!
The weirdest part was she was always around like I could leave my room (Which was next to hers) and I hadnt even got to the bottom of the stairs yet and she was following. Anyone came home with friends? She was out of her room in a flash with any excuse.
Obviously we knew she probably didn’t have many friends and wanted someone to talk to but she did this every single day we were home at uni. Sometimes a girl just wants to go to the kitchen without being accosted. She was also the stingiest person I’d ever met.
She said she took out her SFE loan and saved 80% of it and complained about paying for communal bills all the time or making everyone feel bad because she couldn’t afford a takeaway to the point where sometimes we would offer to buy one for her.
She told us her account balance when we got her drunk once and she was bloody minted. I’m talking 7k+ plus and theres my friends going in to overdrafts feeling bad for her!
She was a hoot to wind up though ngl. So gullible. We once convinced her one of our flatmates was pregnant and didn’t know who the father was or what she was going to do w/baby.
She was so scandalised! This was only 5 years ago and she’s not changed at all. I cannot imagine her in any professional career, poor girl.
“I’M SORRY,” said Nicole, my landlady and former friend, “but I’m going to have to ask you both to leave.” I glared at my flatmate David, who ignored me. Nicole sniffled, adding miserably: “The atmosphere in the flat has become unbearable. I can’t stand being in my own home.”
Trying not to look guilty, I purred soothingly: “You’re right. The atmosphere is unbearable. Because David disapproves of me.” Silence. “Don’t you David?” David sneered: “It’s not for me to approve or disapprove of anyone.” My civilised veneer vanished. Biting back a yelp of hatred, I snarled: “Yeah, but you do anyway.”
In spite of the disgrace of expulsion, I felt overwhelming relief. Compared with the misery of flat sharing, the prospect of a forced sojourn at my parents – even at the elderly age of 24 – was joyous. I was too slothful to initiate my own departure from Nicole’s, but having been ordered out, I couldn’t wait to leave.
First, vacating the premises might resuscitate our ailing friendship, and second, I would never have to see David again. Living with the pair of them had been hell. After all, the realisation that you irritate, annoy and, eventually, alienate your peers is profoundly distressing.
And it had started off so well. Nicole had purchased a smart three- bedroomed flat and advertised for friends to help pay her mortgage. When I offered my services she happily accepted.
She knew me as my social self – the Anna who bought a small gift when invited round to lunch, who stood up for pensioners on the Tube and who was unfailingly courteous to other people’s parents.
Unfortunately, she didn’t know me as my primitive self – the Anna who only washed dishes at gunpoint, who sulked every morning because the day started too early, and who had dinner parties where people drank too much and broke furniture. So I moved in.
There was a honeymoon period of roughly two weeks, during which we all walked around like Stepford wives offering each other cups of tea and chitchatting. Then I thought, good grief, I’m paying for this, I’ll behave accordingly.
I became taciturn and stopped offering David cups of tea. His tendency to spend half-an-hour in the bathroom every morning, leaving it looking and smelling like a seal’s paddling pool, was beginning to irritate me.
He also spent ages on the phone and laughed like a braying donkey. Worse, he had an unhealthy habit of rolling up his ties like liquorice wheels in neat rows on top of his chest of drawers.
While David behaved like a PR from Homes & Gardens, my aversion to housework was becoming apparent. After a gruelling day at the office and the pub, I didn’t feel like scraping burnt pasta off a saucepan so I’d leave it to soak for five days.
Nicole would occasionally beg me to wash up / empty the bin / remove rotting produce from the fridge / pay rent etc. All of which I took as personal criticism and grouched accordingly.
I only felt a twinge of shame when we were burgled and Nicole called at work to say that they’d “really turned over your room” leaving a “terrible mess”. I rushed home to discover that, if anything, the burglars had tidied up.
Nicole subsequently hired a cleaner, but there remained enough bones of contention to fill a cemetery. Admittedly, I was careless to leave hairpins in my shirt pockets when I used Nicole’s new Zanussi washer-dryer, which broke the machine.
I was foolish to allow my friend to drink a bottle of David’s Glenfiddich – particularly when he returned home to catch them draining the dregs – and to replace it with Sainsburys own blend.
And I shouldn’t have allowed my guests to smoke 200 cigarettes over the course of an evening in Nicole’s lounge and burn three holes in her beige carpet when it was a no-smoking flat.
But I did feel justified in setting my alarm at 7am to beat David to the bathroom, spending half an hour reading Cosmo on the toilet while he banged on the door, and squeezing three spongefuls of water over the floor in a pre-emptive strike, because I knew he loathed me anyway. By this point we’d stopped speaking.
Nicole was caught in the crossfire and asking me to leave was the only way to prevent hostilities escalating into war. I knew David regarded me as the Wicked Witch of the West and himself as Dorothy so I was thrilled that Nicole decided to boot him out as well. It made everything worthwhile.
Five months later, I bought a one-bedroomed flat where I now live, alone. My parents advised me that I should to buy a two-bedroomed one and get a friend to move in to help pay the mortgage, but no way.
My friends are, without exception, delightful, but I know that even the most wonderful, kind, good- natured people can turn out to be flatmates from hell