“I needed that ham, really needed it. I pay the rent what do you do. I hate you more than life itself”…Sharehousing

The heading of this blog entry is taken a new book called “I lick my cheese” and other notes from the frontline of flat-sharing. Apparently it’s a collection of notes that flatmates have left each other over the years… the one on the website says “I needed that ham, really needed it. I pay the rent what do you do. I hate you more than life itself”… perhaps I have somewhat dry sense of humour but it made me laugh out loud and I am now resolved to track this book down. It was mentioned by one of my favourite columnists you can read her article here: http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/story/0,23739,23097109-5012506,00.html).

Over the years I have shared my space with many people but there is really only one flatmate that stands out in my memory. The strange world that is facebook has recently reconnected me with an old friend who shared this same flatmate experience. We had lived together a few years ago.... the connection that ended in our living together was a third girl we were at university with. We were both much better friends with her than each other, until we lived together that it is. It was that first few months living together that we bonded over the sheer terror of our new living arrangement.

Now, terror may sound like an over-exaggeration… but I’m not talking about a housemate that eats your food, doesn’t pay their bills, is unemployed and decides to set up their life underneath their donna in the living room or has random sex with different guys so that you’re regularly making small talk with men with chains hanging off their belt while eating your breakfast…No, these are all situations that I’ve encountered and coped with. We were literally living in a state of fear.

In hindsight the signs of a serious “personality disturbance” had been there: the harsh judgements of other people based on pretty minor things, the disturbingly graphic descriptions of the things she would like to do to people that pissed her off, the rigidness bordering on self-punishment that included running for an hour every morning whether she had a fever, or it was pouring with rain. I don’t want to make light of the fact that she was a girl in a whole lot of pain but sometimes people who are a bit rough around the edges have an energy and impulsiveness that can be exciting and fun. I guess that is what had attracted both of us to being friends with her in the first place…

However, it was at the two month mark that we decided that: spending a good ten minutes making sure everything was exactly as we had left it, ensuring there was not a spot of water on any of the benches and being on edge when she would walk through the door inspecting the house wondering when the next explosion was going to happen was not a normal way to live. I think the defining moments were when she threatened to put my head through a wall for using hairspray in the bathroom (well she had asked me not to) and Cathy almost being reduced to tears at the thought of what was going to happen to her when she accidentally broke this girl’s mirror. It’s been years now but I saw her at uni about six months and the way she looked at me I could tell the hatred was still there. I don’t know what it would be like to carry that level of anger around with you every day. Exhausting and terrifying I imagine.