It’s great when a roommate turns into a lifelong friend. Though that is not always the end of the story. Sometimes your new best friend turns out to be a psychopath who watches you sleep while they eat popcorn.
“Jack” moved into the converted kitchen pantry in my house in July, and after a week or so, we bonded over beers, weed and our mutual love for the film Cool Runnings. It seemed chill at first. Then he said something that foreshadowed what was to come.
“Man, I’m so glad we’re friends. I know that at some point you’ll stop hanging out with me, because that’s what everyone does. Ha, ha. I love this movie,” he said as he stared into his thermos of wine. It sounded vaguely prophetic. I said something like, “Of course not, buddy,” and changed the subject to that of John Candy’s versatility as an actor.
Three months later, we were getting drunk and watching Golden Girls when, out of nowhere, he started talking about how it was fun to manipulate people. This came from completely out of left field. I nodded my head and went back to pondering what Bea Arthur looked like in the nude.
More red flags
Possessiveness/jealousy: He saw a photograph that one of my old roommates had taken of our apartment building. He asked who had taken it, and I explained that my old roommate/friend Shane had and that he was a very gifted photographer. Jack said that the picture was shit and that we would be better friends than I was with Shane. Later, the picture would go missing.
Shoplifting
When we went grocery-shopping together, he would wear a special jacket and grab cans of oysters and sardines slyly off the shelf and sneak them into his pocket. He also liked to steal vitamins and spices. Most of the stuff he didn’t use — it would be packed away into his cabinet to collect dust. He explained that it was OK to steal from big chain grocery stores, as they could afford the loss. That store he stole from ended up going out of business. Looking back, it also became clear that he was using me as a decoy.
Constant negative comments
Hanging out with him could become exhausting because he had a negative thing to say about seemingly everything. He said my guitar was shitty because it sounded too good, and he went on a 30-minute rant on the magicians Penn & Teller that was totally unprompted by anything. At that time he was flunking out of school and was deep in credit card debt from buying things like expensive guitar amps and recording equipment, which mostly went unused. I guess he felt he had to drag everyone down with him or something.
Had sex in my room
He told me he had had sex in my room—months after the fact. He had violated my inner sanctum. I felt like Batman upon discovering the Joker getting a blow job in the Batcave. Jack explained that his friend was playing guitar in his room, and he thought I wouldn’t care if he brought a girl into my room to make whoopee. Later, I would recall him talking about having anal sex with the girl in question. I burned my sheets.
Mail theft
I came home and found him opening a package addressed to an old roommate, Paulo, who had moved out months earlier; it was a small portable grill that Paulo’s mom had mailed him all the way from Chile. As he was opening it, there was a knock on the door, and there was Paulo, looking for his package. Jack was caught so red-handed it was ridiculous.
Watching me sleep
I started having these dreams about a dark, malevolent figure eating popcorn and watching me sleep. I brushed it off because I was eating a lot of spicy food before I went to bed at the time. Then when I was cleaning my room I would find bits of popcorn on the floor.
Unhealthy obsession with the musician Mac DeMarco
He would go on at great lengths about chill-wave prodigy Mac DeMarco and told me that he and Mac were best friends. I’m serious—he would not shut the fuck up about the guy. One time we went to see Mac DeMarco play at a block party in the Mission, and after the show, Mac did his obligatory meet-the-fans thing. When he saw Jack, he started yelling about a restraining order and how Jack was supposed to stay a thousand feet away from him.
The whole ordeal had become a male version of the film Single White Female. At the first opportunity I had, I moved into a more favorable situation. After that, I started pulling back on communicating with him, which was easier said than done because our then-girlfriends were living together, and it was like a sitcom in hell. He had virtually turned their apartment into his second home to the point where he graduated to having sex in the living room. He was always there.
That was four years ago, and since then, my life has become fairly drama-free again. Last I heard, he had been arrested outside a Mac DeMarco concert with a gun shoved into his sock.
https://www.instagram.com/smellyoldlady/
