Housemate Horror Stories To Make You Feel Better About Your Current Living Situation
Housemates, can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em. No seriously – have you seen the price of rent on a studio?
It seems living with strangers can go one of two ways: you make some cool new pals or are partnered with sociopaths, reincarnations of the devil, or any kind of crazy in-between.
We hit up some friends to tell us their most outlandish housemate experiences, and they did not disappoint. If you’re stuck living with a crazy, these stories will no doubt make you feel better about your current living situation.
I’m the kind of person with a plethora of share house horror stories, but here’s my personal fav…
When I first moved to Sydney, I moved into this share house with two girls. When I went to look at the place they had candles burning, it was so clean and nice as if a cleaner had just been to the house! Needless to say I was impressed, then and there deciding to move in.
Little did I know that I would be sharing a house with six dogs and two cats (all inside animals). Like, imagine a layer of hair throughout the whole house. They would do their business everywhere, including on top of the kitchen benches and stove tops.
I honestly didn’t eat for the month that I lived there. Low-key lost 15 kilos and became pale AF because I never left my room.
My housemate also enjoyed dressing as a cat and meowing… for hours. But, that’s a whole other story.
What’s mine isn’t yours
Where to begin… my roommate and best friend from high school turned out to be an absolute parasite and I am still kind of in the midst of it.
He lives off me 80% of the time (I’m a full time uni student with a part-time job in retail – in no position to be giving out any favours). All the stuff in the apartment is mine and he currently owes me just over a thousand dollars.
He’s never cleaned the house and the smell from his room drifts into the shared living space. This, I might be able to live with… but he ALWAYS STEALS MY CLOTHES!
Anything from socks and shorts to shoes and jumpers. Since I’ve lived with him, he’s claimed at least four pairs of my shoes and honestly, I don’t even want them back now because to their newfound scent.
You’re probably thinking, just tell him to stop wearing your shit, right? Well, I do… constantly!
It’s gotten to the point where he genuinely believes my stuff is his because squatter’s rights, I guess? I confronted him not that long ago, telling him he was wearing my trackies. His response, “nah bro, I bought these a month ago”.
We both went to boarding school, which will explain this next bit, but I checked the tag on the back with my name written in big letters in permanent marker. He apologised (half-heartedly) and promised to stop taking my stuff.
The next day he came out wearing my shoes, socks and shorts…
I move out next week.
I was new to the city and had just moved into my first share house. All was going really well and I was stoked to find someone normal to live with!
I went on a short holiday, and came back as he’d just left for a holiday of his own. I was relaxed, had the place to myself – loving life. Until one day, after his departure, I copped a text message saying that he’d decided not to renew the lease because the property held some bad memories for him.
Oh, and that I had two weeks to be out.
I didn’t see him at all during those two weeks – he actively avoided me. He told me I had to leave the keys in the mailbox and essentially get all my sh*t out of the house.
After kicking me out with nowhere to live with zero warning, he had the audacity to chase me up for utilities and bills for the two months I lived with him.
“New phone, who dis?”
I was living with a few girls, and we were looking for another housemate. We were young, and evidently not very smart. Because of this, there was no screening process or interviews.
One girl came and was keen to move in right away. We were stoked to get someone so quick, so obviously said yes.
We didn’t see her too often because she had her own access and wasn’t the socialising type. All we knew about her is that she was really into witchcraft, which like, each to their own, I’m not one to judge.
We were all at a party one time though, and she hooked up with a friend of mine. After the fact, he told me she would constantly call and message him… essentially a stage five clinger, but with some darker undertones.
I didn’t really think anything of it… I mean, some people just get attached, and he let her down gently. I just dropped it.
I came home one after work and was fanging for a paddle-pop. I opened the freezer to find two large butchers knives in the freezer with his name in big black letters on both. There were notes sticky-taped to the knives that looked like Latin or something.
I confronted her about it and the next day she was gone.
The moral to the story is, things might be bad at the moment, but at least you don’t have a witch practicing voodoo in your kitchen.