Squatters Have No Rights.

I am recently married, and my husband and I decided (despite warnings from our friends and family) it would be a good idea to get a roommate. Our home is large and our roommate (my husbands coworker) was a really quiet, laid back guy who was out of state visiting his girlfriend more often than not. It seemed like an ideal situation, until we got back from our honeymoon.
When we walked into our home I was floored. Endless junk and garbage and filth laying all over the place. And in addition to the huge mess, there was random clutter all over that didn’t belong to the roommate or my husband and definitely didn’t belond to me. College textbooks, high heel shoes, furry little pink hoodies and a backpack with girl clothes overflowing onto the kitchen floor. Not to mention the random car parked out front of our house. Hmmm.
Not too long before this the roommate had broken up with (or more likely been dumped by) his gorgeous, classy, sophisticated and mature girlfriend, and had rebounded with a barely legal child who looked suspicially like someones ugly little brother, and who had the social skills of a wild goat. She was loud, rude, messy, and obnoxiously immature. All. The. Time. And our roommate in turn began to act more and more like HER, rather than the other way around.

And she was at our house all the time…whether her boyfriend was or not, and despite having her own apartment. I would get up early in the morning to go to work, and she would be watching tv in the living room. I would get back 9 hours later and she would still be on the couch. If she ever left the house she would leave a HUGE mess behind for me to clean. She would randomly show up throughout the day and let herself into the house. And when she did get here, she wouldn’t just quietly go upstairs to the bedroom to wait for the boyfriend. She would just force herself into whatever we were doing (even when we had guests over).
We confronted the roommate and said, “Your rent covers one person, not two, she can’t just move in here.” And he assured us she wasn’t moving in, it just *seemed* like she was there a lot. So I started keeping track, and this is what I found: in the 60 days I kept track she was there 50 days and nights. Of the 10 nights when she WASN’T here, 6 were because she was out of town, and only 4 were because they were staying at her apartment.
But all that wasn’t even the kicker. One morning she waltzed into my bedroom (without so much as knocking) and informed me that she didn’t “appreciate” how I had set up the kitchen so *I* needed to make sure I was putting everything back where *she* wanted it.
Ummmm…no. My husband and I both agreed that enough was enough. The additional income from the roommate barely covered their combined utilities, and it DEFINITELY did not cover the misery of having to deal with that little monster every single day and night.
We sat down with the roommate and told him we wanted him to move out within 30 days. He calmly informed us it was all our problem, and that it is normal for a girlfriend to move in with the roommate without paying extra rent or contributing in any way or even ASKING the landlords.
We laid out new rules for the remaining time he was with us:
1. She couldn’t be in the house without him. Ever. Even if he just had to run to get gas she had to go with him.
2. She couldn’t be at the house more than 3 times a week. And that was 3 days OR nights, not just camping out for the weekend.
3. Quiet hours were from 9am-9pm. (Yes we had to make quiet hours for a grown ass man. Apparently he didn’t understand that loud sex up against the wall to our bedroom at 3am was not cool, and I was tired of sleeping on the couch.)
4. They had to clean up after themselves.
5. If they were unable to respect the first 3, rent and utilities would be doubled for the remaining month, and if they were unable to pay that then they would be evicted immediately and locked out of the house with or without their belongings.
6. If they couldn’t keep it clean we would hire a maid and bill it to them.
Now that all seems very harsh on our part, but we had been dealing with this for MONTHS, and any time we tried to talk to the roommate he would either not understand that it was an issue, or would just get all pissy and offended because we didn’t tell him soon enough or told him over text or didn’t say it in the right tone. He was basically acting like a pre-pubescent girl and the adult method wouldn’t work, so we had to go Barney style.
Anyway, the next month was the most awkward time ever. His girlfriend would intentionally make bitchy comments whenever we were within earshot, and during the “non-quiet” hours they would both be blatantly, intentionally loud. When we were home they kept the house somewhat clean, but as soon as we left they would trash it. And I knew this because we came back a day early from a retreat and it looked like the house had been vandalized. This latest incident resulted in a bit of a blowup because I had invited friends over for the afternoon, and when I got home and took one look at their mess, and proceeded to clean up after them, which took about four hours (so I had to unin. They had so much stuff strewn around that I ended up just putting it all in a big industrial garbage bag and putting it on his bed. He got home later and ripped into me for “direspecting” his belongings and his girlfriend and blah blah blah.
So eventually they FINALLY moved out (well after the agreed upon date). They moved in with a mutual friend, a wonderfully laid back guy. If anyone can put up with those two its him. And then I started thinking, maybe the problem is mine? Maybe I am too up tight and controlling and a neat freak. Maybe I overreacted.
Except…
Just this past week we were out with the mutual and he informed us that he finds the girlfriend overwhelmingly annoying (and intentionally chooses bars and restaurants that ID for access so that she can’t go) and the boyfriend has been acting like a huge dick. And he said if they don’t voluntarily move out within the next month or two he is going to ask them to leave.
So I guess it wasn’t my problem after all.
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