Life & Love

Hectic housemates: 8 flatting horror stories

Article by Miss FQ

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Think your flatmate’s the worst? Our confidantes’ tales take cohabiting nightmares to the next lev.

And yes to make things even better we’ve added in a nightmare-o-meter. So you be the judge and see if you agree if these stories are ugh, can you not?, should be in therapy or should be in jail.


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The eco warrior
“My housemate was near perfect, except for one controversial daily ritual that I never had the heart to call her on. Before bed on chilly evenings, she’d go into the kitchen to fill up her hot water bottle — nothing unusual about that, right? Except that she’d tip the cold water from the previous night into the jug, re-boil it, then pour it back into her hot water bottle. She seemed to have no idea that the jug was also used by everyone else in the house to make tea and that what she was doing was totally gross. She was a sensitive soul, though, so rather than say anything, I’d wait for her to go back to her room before scrubbing out the jug each night. Where did her extreme water-preservation efforts stem from? Perhaps she died in a desert in another life.”

The party animal
“I have no problem whatsoever with a flatmate having a party, provided they follow the golden rule: if you throw it, you clean up after it. My former roomie’s cleaning style might have been described as unorthodox at the best of times, but post-party, things reached peak freaky. I arrived home one morning to find he’d had yet another rager on our inner-city rooftop. Fine, but when it came time to clean up the cigarette butts and rubbish left on the ground, he optedto use our brand new vacuum cleaner… on the concrete! Am I missing a memo, because last time I checked, a broom would’ve done the trick?”

The incensitive
“Is there anything more annoying than a scent you don’t like invading your living space? Not smelly sardines or wet washing left in the machine for three days — although, ugh, that irks me too. I’m talking a flattie’s obsession with lighting all-encompassing, choke-worthy incense every single day on the bottom floor of a three-level townhouse. Beyond irritating! My other flatmate and I have a habit of snuffing it out every time her back is turned to prevent the stink from taking over our home.”

The ghost
“I’ve never been one to take things personally. If something happens that upsets me, I try to look at the bright side. I tell myself that if this is the worst thing to happen to me today, then it’s an okay day. But when one of my closest friends told me she was moving out of my flat and into another — with strangers! — just down the road, I was hurt and basically broken. I wanted to talk to her about it, but in the weeks that followed, she chose to ignore me. When she came home, she’d go straight to her room. If we were in the house together, she’d walk past me and not say a thing. In hindsight, I should have forced myself to broach a conversation with her, but as it stands, we haven’t spoken since the day she moved out. Tear. I guess there are some people who just want to do things their way.”


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The mother hen
“A couple of years ago, I had a flatmate who took it upon herself to be everyone’s mum. This decision affected our lives in a number of painful ways, the most memorable being how she dealt with conflict. If another flatmate didn’t agree with her views on a topic, privileges would be revoked and anything precious hidden without their knowledge. Rock bottom came when multiple laptops and other valuable items appeared to have been stolen, and we called the cops to report a break-in. This saga dragged on for several days until finally the mother hen emerged victorious with the flat’s prized possessions. Awkward.”

The bull in a china shop
“So you’ve told your flatmates you’re totally exhausted and need to get a good sleep before tomorrow’s really important work presentation. Cue one — and it only takes one — going right ahead and slamming all the doors, dropping everything in the shower, tripping over the vacuum cleaner outside your room, deciding to roll the bins down the driveway at 1am and pretty much creating every kind of disturbance known to man because they’re a dick. Who is this guy? An idiot, that’s who. If you live with someone like him, keep plenty of magnesium on hand, and invest in earplugs while you’re at it.”


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The loo-ser
“I’ve had terrible experiences with flatmates with very, very poor hygiene. One who threw “unintentional” orgies. One who stole my food. One who stole my toothpaste, my clothes… the list goes on. I’ve dealt with passive, psycho flatmates. I’ve been a passive, psycho flatmate. But none of this can compare to the time when I lived with a bunch of guys who’d do number twos in my ensuite and not flush. Like, WTH? That’s so haggard. My BF at the time urinated on their car door handles as a very passive but oh-so-rewarding punishment. I think we can all agree that was a real low point in my life.”

The Sistema bandit
“Can I get a moment of silence for all the stolen Sistema containers out there? You buy a brand new set of this holy-grail food-storage solution because it’s synonymous with having your sh*t together and also, you legit need it to store your lunches and leftovers in. Without fail, though, you pop them in the dishwasher and the very next morning not one remains. The culprit? Your rude-ass flatmates, who’ve nicked them for themselves and their lunches, giving your prized plastic a one-way ticket to their workplace, never to return again. The only solution? Hand-wash them, then put your next meal into them straight away. Ensuring there’s no shelf life is essential. Better living everybody.”

Photos: Supplied.

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