Dear Grace,
My roommate is in a serious relationship. And by serious, I mean he and his girlfriend think it’s OK to sleep in our room three nights a week. How do I tell them this is not cool? Do I just go in there when I’m ready to sleep? Do I install a new dead bolt? Help!
Sincerely,
Sexiled
Pose this same question elsewhere and you might receive a well thought out answer about being a mature adult and making compromises. Indeed these are both commendable approaches that might lead to healthy communication between you two. Hooray for acting like a grown-up.
I, on the other hand, take the road less traveled. The road, I should say, of passive aggression. It’s normal for every pair of roommates to work out a simple sock-on-the-door system for those special moments where it may not be entirely opportune to have a third party enter the room unannounced. Regardless, there comes a point when, sock or not, two people live in that room and two people should have equal use of it at peak hours.
Of course, you could sit down with your roommate and talk about your feeling when receiving a text while summiting the hill on Upper Dorm Road that says, “Hey, umm, can you knock when you come back?” Let’s be real, even my Puritanical mother could identify that as a euphemism for “don’t come in unless you’re prepared to deal with the irreparable psychological consequences of what lies beyond that door.” And honestly, where’s the fun in mature confrontation, anyway?
Nay, situations like this call for psychological warfare of the sixth-grade variety. Irrational pranks, theft and gossip are much easier to push off on someone else should the time for confrontation finally come. A failed attempt at reasonable discussion only means indefinite, unavoidable awkwardness and tension. If called out on childish antics? Deny, deny, deny.
How could any trifling prank result in revenge proportional to the emotional anxiety you’ve suffered having had to sleep on the couch in your common room? One must be crafty. For example, next time your roommate hops in the shower, slide on over to his side of the room and slip his key off that cute, orange Pepperdine lanyard. Shove it in your pocket and wait for the text, maybe six hours later, from your frantic roommate and his girlfriend, locked out until you return. Text back casually, noting how busy you are but offering to stop by the room to help out. Rush heroically to their aid, whip out your own key, and act nonchalant as the three of you walk in together. Toss your stuff on your bed, sprawl out on the floor, and watch as they shift in discomfort before seeking privacy elsewhere. Hold on to his key as long as possible and return when necessary. Wait four days and repeat.
You might also consider doing what you can to make your living quarters entirely unbearable for the lovebirds. This may translate to hoarding unwashed dishes on your desk, mounting unsavory posters on the wall or even planting dead bugs and clumps of hair in your roommate’s sheets. There is an endless variety of options, all of which will most likely culminate in his girlfriend marching self righteously from the room.
These actions may not alert your roommate directly to the source of your angst, but how satisfying will it be to watch his constant confusion at the discovery of such mysterious mood killers? Perhaps the roommate will be so distraught that he will resort to sleeping in his significant other’s dorm room, solving your problem far more effectively than a chat with your RA might have. Sure, you’re reduced to living in squalor, but the satisfaction of revenge is far more potent than the stench of intentionally planted rotting laundry.
