The Paranoid and the Suicidal Drunk

It started out the second semester of my freshman year. I had just transferred from a room in the same building that had been a “temporary triple” (yeah right) for the first semester for me and two other guys. I met my new roommate, (we’ll call him Jim) but NOT my suitemate (there was only one, despite both rooms being double, and for a very good reason, as I found out).

A few weeks in, my suitemate (we’ll call him L) made his first introduction. “How?” you ask? By barging through the bathroom and promptly accusing me and my roommate of going into his room. No, we replied, we hadn’t gone into his room. (The suite is joined by a common bath, btw).

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Nothing happened for a while after that. Then, another confrontation. He banged on the door, and insisted that he was there to check for listening devices, whether we wanted him to or not. Upon us physically removing him from our room and threatening to call the RA, he gave us a nasty, scrutinizing look and left.

comprar sildenafil portugal Now, you remember Jim? My roommate? He was a great guy, to be sure, but there was one incident that will stick with me forever. He did, on occasion, get drunk on weekends. One night, I was awoken by knocking on my door. I had been in REM perhaps an hour, and was VERY groggy. His friend was at the door, also a great guy. He pointed down the hall, and said “Help me get him inside, he doesn’t believe this is his room.” From Jim “HAHA that isn’t my room man…hee hee.” We get him inside, and have to persuade him NOT to go back out at one in the morning, and to get in bed. Once done, the friend takes his leave. This is at one in the morning now.

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