Sexiled: Chronicles of the Homeless Roommate

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You get home after a long night of partying only to find that the door to your double is locked. No warning, no post-it, no courtesy text message—just the dreaded cold hard truth of a bolted bedroom door—you’ve been sexiled. At least, that’s how it happened to me my sophomore year.

It was a Tuesday night during the first week of school and my friends and I were getting ready to go out to some local bars. Everyone was super excited to get back out there after a long summer, mainly because we wanted to see how our old crushes and hook ups would react to seeing us again. Most of us were hoping to rekindle old flames from freshman year and my newly single roommate was certainly on the prowl.

After a fun night of dancing and mingling around the bar, I decided to call it a night. My apartment was only a block away so I walked back alone. When I got home, I put my things down and headed over to my bedroom. It was locked. I banged on the door, jiggling the knob and demanded my roommate open up.

“We’re busy,” she shouted to me through the door. I paused to listen in and sure enough, she was definitely getting busy.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was my envy or maybe it was my sincere lust for my own bed, but I was pissed. I stormed out of my apartment, but as soon as I left I knew I had made a grave mistake. My apartment was pretty old school; you needed two different keys just to enter the front door and I had foolishly left my keys and cell upstairs in my apartment. It was 3 a.m.

At this point, I was full on panicking. Running through my options, I came up with a brilliant solution. The cozy interior of the backseat of my car seemed like a close second to my plush full sized bed, so I headed to the parking lot outside of my apartment building and prayed that my car was unlocked. To my surprise, it was. Jackpot.

The next morning, my roommate, being the kind woman that she is, decided to giver her one-night stand a ride back to his frat house in my car. Little did she know, I was snug as a bug, nestled in the backseat. I was so startled by the sudden movement and roaring sound of the ignition, I popped up from the back, screaming. My roommate slammed on the brakes and stared at me in complete shock. We broke out in hysterics, and all was forgiven.

To this day my roommate is still living with me in our senior house. Luckily, she now shoots me a warning text before she brings back a guy, ensuring I never have to sleep in my car ever again.

Senior > Broadcast Journalism > University of Maryland

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