My Life-Continued

It seems like writing yesterday's blog post broke the ice for me to start updating this blog again. When I last talked about my life story, we were in the apartment I was sharing with a college friend after I graduated. My privacy had been well and truly violated, which I totally was not digging. One thing I forgot to tell you is that when I spoke to her about my not being happy with boundaries being overstepped, she said that where she's from that type of behavior is okay. I was thinking "Really? I'm from rural Georgia, and although we aren't the most couth people, even that doesn't fly with us."

After all of that went down I knew that I couldn't trust her, and went about my business for the rest of the summer. I found out that she was planning to move back home for a bit and then move to Las Vegas with her sister, so once our lease was up, she was out. On the day that she actually moved I didn't know she was leaving until I got home from work that afternoon. There was a note on my bed telling me that she was gone and that I owed her money for my part of the utilities. She included her parents' address so that I could send the money. I fully intended to send the money until I went into her old room and saw the note that she left for the freeloader girl. In the note she went on and on about what a great friend freeloader girl had been to her and how maybe she could visit her once she moved to Vegas with her sister. Wtf?! I was the one who got her out of a jam when she needed someone to take over half of the lease. I'm the one whose stuff her family and friends commandeered why I wasn't there. All I got was "You owe me money. Send it to this address." While this other girl who did nothing but mess up dishes without washing them, as well as not taking a turn cleaning the bathroom gets "You have been such a good friend to me." After reading that I knew there was no damn way she was ever getting the money that I owed her for utilities. When it comes right down to it, I got screwed in that deal. Looking back on it I just hate the fact that I didn't have the guts to speak up for myself. Of course with time comes maturity and hopefully, the ability to take action when someone is treating you unfairly. I just know that were I in the same situation today there's no way that I would stand for what went down. Live and learn.

You Really Never Know Someone...

...until you live with them. It's such a cliche, but so true. Although the story I'm about to tell you happened almost 14 years ago, the retelling of it makes me feel like I'm right back there in the summer of 1998. In July of that year my younger brother was graduating from basic training as a Marine, so I took a trip down South to go with my family to his graduation. Before leaving the apartment for my trip, I closed my bedroom door. Off I went to enjoy some family time, secure in the belief that everything would be the way that I left it when I got home.

Boy, was I wrong! First of all, on the cab ride home I was thinking about the fact that I had strawberry Pop-Tarts, and I was looking forward to having one. Get home, go in the kitchen, no Pop-Tarts. Ask my roommate if she's seen my Pop-Tarts and her response was "My mom must've eaten them." I'm thinking "Your mom?" Apparently her parents were in town while I was gone, and they stayed in the apartment, rather than booking a room in a hotel. Supposedly they slept in her room, while she and her clubbing buddy slept in mine. Strike one: My Pop-Tarts are gone.

I go into my bedroom to unpack my stuff and notice that there are keys on my bed. Here we go again. Back to my roommate's room to ask her about the keys. Her response was "Oh those must be Paul's keys. We watched a movie in your room the other night, and he must've left them there." What? They watched a movie in my room? Strike two: My roommate and some dude were rolling around on my bed.

Putting stuff away in my closet I noticed that my bathrobe wasn't hanging inside on the door. Why do I have to keep asking this girl about my shit? Off I go to her room yet again. Ask her if she's seen my bathrobe. She asks what color it is, and when I tell her, she informs me that her mother slept in it while she was there. Apparently she thought it belonged to freeloader girl. You remember freeloader girl from my previous post, right? The million dollar question is: How would her mom even know about the existence of that robe unless she was in my room while she was visiting? That pretty much tells me that this chick's parents slept in my bed. Strike three: Some woman I don't even know is sleeping in my robe.

After that, I really had very little to do with this girl because I was raised to respect other people's property and to not touch something that isn't mine without permission. Where I'm from, a closed bedroom door when someone isn't home means "Do Not Enter". Invasion of privacy, anyone?

Unfortunately, at this point in my life I wasn't assertive enough to voice my disgust at all that had transpired while I was gone.