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MEMORIES I WOULD RATHER NOT HAVE
My College Roommate Had Sex With Her Boyfriend While I Was In The Room
Approximately one million times.
Sascha (not her real name, duh, because I’m about to call her a racist) was the epitome of the kind of girl who went to Miami University in the 1980s. A tanned, highlighted, manicured, glittering chip off the upper crust of society.
She could play any song she heard, by ear, on the piano (which made me and my stubby fingers incredibly jealous). She was beautiful, and rich, and disgustingly pleasant to be around. She had a diamond engagement ring the size of a sugar cube and her boyfriend was equally buff and gorgeous.
She was pre-med, because of course she was. She wanted to be an allergist, which is probably the kind of doctor I would be. Less blood, more money.
She played the theme from St. Elmo’s Fire on her boombox pretty much non-stop for an entire year. I still get PTSD when I hear it.
Things started off swimmingly. When we first arrived on campus for rush week (as if I was ever, in a billion years, going to fit into any sorority on the face of the planet) and settled into our room, we talked for…
