Bacon-Sex Man, aka our new roomate

I’ve said before how we just got a new MALE roommate without any say on who it was. Well, I know exactly who he is. He’s Bacon-Sex Man. Why have I dubbed him that? You’re about to find out.

BSM is a scraggly man in his early twenties, hair best described as the hair that all boys in junior high wore (think Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire) but just a smidge longer, his bangs perpetually over one eye. Who knows if he even has that second eye? Not me. I can best describe his Facebook profile picture as “on 3 different kinds of drugs excited” and “not the face you want to see in the dark,” which is strange because a parade of young girls has already done exactly that. During my first conversation with him, I asked him if he worked or if he was a student and he proclaimed, “I am self-educated!” as he stood in front of the large 12×12 tapestry of what seemed like a modernized/hipsterized version of the Hindu god Ganesha that he had hung over one of the kitchen walls.

It went well at first. He was mostly gone because his self-education led him to housing construction and his site was currently in San Antonio. However, the few nights that he spent in the apartment every weekend (now spilling into the week, it’s goddamn Wednesday), grew more and more rambunctious.

Let’s talk about last Friday night. Here I was, bundled up in my comforter, having just turned off the light for a satisfying quickie with a TV show before I let sleep take over (am I the only person out there that likes falling asleep while watching something?). When suddenly, halfway to dreamland, I was jolted awake by heavy banging at the door. Not the cautious knocks of a visitor nor even remotely on the scale of “hey-you-accidentally-locked-your-roommate-out.” No, this was POLICE, IF YOU DON’T LET ME IN I WILL KILL YOUR CAT… JUST KIDDING I’M A MURDERER type knocking

Needless to say I was a little terrified. And a little vengeful. The door was open… why not just let him learn his lesson? The knocking got, if possible, even louder. So I let him and his date in—not without a few words about how the door was, dumbass, already open.

Last night, he and his girlfriend (yes, he also has a steady girlfriend) were on something and made a disaster in the kitchen… after turning on the emergency heating system in our apartment. We all woke up sweaty and confused.

“I’m pretty sure he’s been bringing his Tinder dates back to the apartment,” one of my roommates said during an all-girls impromptu meeting. “They were sitting on the couch and weren’t expecting me to be back at all. When they moved back into his room, I heard him say something like, ‘Wow, your head only reaches my chin!’ And then they started having loud, fake, porn sex so I left the apartment.”

He’s only been living with us for almost three weeks but by this point, we’ve all caught on to his pre- and post-bang habits. Bacon before and/or after the deed. Either way, the fact that bacon is this closely related to sex makes me question whether we’re actually living with a prehistoric caveman come back to life.

Admittedly, I have been quite blessed so far in the Random Roommate Life, so this came as a nasty shock to me. I know that it could be SO much worse, but also, it could’ve been a lot better too.

What about you? What’s your Worst Roommate Story?

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