My Roommate is a Pledge: This Is My Story

By Anonymous

WAKE UP AND LET US IN RIGHT NOW

Shouts and thunderous knocking wake me up. It’s 4:37 in the morning. What the hell is going on? My roommate groans and rolls out of bed. She opens the door to four towering men in black hoodies and crazed eyes.

RUNNING SHOES ON LET’S GO GO GO

They continue yelling at my roommate as she groggily puts on her tennis shoes. I feel a light mist that stings my nose as one man sprays my roommate with a spray bottle to get her to speed up. I’m just trying to sleep, man.

But such events are normal to those of us who must live with…*shudder*...a pledge.

I thought that, after living with a girl in a sorority last year, I had seen it all. After wading through a pool of balloons to get to my bed every day for a whole month last spring, I thought nothing could surprise me. And then my roommate this year rushed a professional fraternity.

At first, it was funny to hear about the process: “And then after I sang ‘No Hands’ in my interview, they asked me fuck, mary, kill with Gyspy Rose Blanchard, Michelle Obama, and Flo from Progressive.”

However, when bid day came, the tides changed. Suddenly, my roommate and I went from laughing about frat guys to her coming back to the room at 10:45 am smelling of Titos and milk. No longer can I count on peace and quiet when I am in my room. My tranquility has been interrupted by my roommate making long and excruciatingly detailed Snapchat reviews on dining hall food or her periodically yelling “OH FUCK” and then rushing out of the room to deliver a brother his vape. My nights are filled with her sleep-talking as she prepares for her fraternity history exam.

1987…gamma…chi…red solo cup…original inventors of beer pong…honk…shoo…mimimi

It’s a never-ending cycle of torment. I can’t even ask her the questions I’m dying to ask: why is she wearing sunglasses indoors at all times? Where did that pink stain on our carpet come from and why does it smell like moldy Pink Whitney? What is the Tupperware of gray sludge stinking up our fridge? Is that DMT!!???!! She is sworn to secrecy.

But, in these troubling times when I can no longer rely on my west campus double to provide me with comfort, at least one thing is for certain: BU doesn’t haze.

(I’m legally required to say that.)