Living with Indian Guys in Wembley (and College Dorm Story)

My last blog got deleted and I lost about a month’s worth of posts. So I’ll have to redo some stuff. In terms of where I was living, my last surviving autobiographical post was this one:

You can check that out if you’re so inclined. But after I left that property, I moved just down the street with some Indian guys. It was five Indian guys and an Australian aboriginal guy. I’ve never seen an Australian aboriginal guy before or since, as far as I know. But I was talking to an Australian aboriginal woman on some dating site around this time. Nothing came of that.

The new place was very close to my old place so I just carried everything over by foot. It was like a five minute walk.

Before I got the place, there was an interview. They wanted to find somebody fun to have around the house. They made a really poor decision.

But the guy who was the main tenant wanted to move to the US. That’s why I got the property. He thought that maybe he could get some inside information about living in the US or whatever. Unfortunately for him, I don’t really socialise, especially in these circumstances. I just fucking hated living in a shared property. Nothing against anybody, it’s my own thing, but I need privacy.

Actually, let me go back further. If you remember this story of the Indian house from the last time I wrote about it, I was only there for a month so there’s not much to tell.

So let me give some bonus “content” about my semester of living in college dorms.

I spent a year going to a local college and I didn’t like living at home so I thought, “I should be out living the crazy college life. Fucking sorority skanks and whatnot.”

So I applied to some in-state, public universities and I think that I got into all of them, but I picked the one that I did because it had a reputation for being a party school. It’s probably not true. I don’t think that these reputations mean anything. It’s only a party school if you’re going out and partying, which, of course, I was not going to do. But this was my idiotic thinking as a 19 year old. I wanted to maximise my chances of fucking bitches by going to this party school. Even though I hated socialising and just wanted to stay inside and hide all day.

I go to the school. It was like a three hour drive from my home. And I’m assigned to a dormitory. I think that I could have got my own apartment because I was a sophmore (only freshmen are required to live in the dorms) but I was trying to save money or something, even though an apartment probably would have been cheaper than the dorms.

There were male dorms, female dorms, and mixed dorms. I obviously went with the mixed dorms. Again, I have no idea what I thought would happen. The ladies are just going to be banging my door in as I hide in my little room. But the whole thinking behind all of this was to have sex with women. That was the whole reason why I was going to college.

I recognised a woman who I went to high school with. She lived on the same floor of this dorm. I didn’t even say hello to her. This would have been a great way to start talking to somebody, maybe I could get something going with her, maybe she could introduce me to her friends, whatever. But I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to talk to anybody. I didn’t know how. It was all really awkward.

My roommate was a Mexican guy. I don’t know if he was an asshole or he was just really annoyed having to live with me. Because he was fine at first. But then there was some issue towards the end of the semester where he would play music really loud when I had the tv on. And I asked him to turn it down and he said no. And he would do this regularly.

By the end of the semester, we weren’t talking at all. Not that we were talking much at any point, but by the end of the semester, there was clearly animosity from both sides.

This was before computers, by the way. So the only way to entertain yourself was with television and video games. I had a Playstation that I bought specifically so I could play it while he’s playing this loud music. I put the sound down. The sound wasn’t necessary.

The guy was an idiot, by the way. I was getting C’s and he was getting F’s.

There were communal showers. When he was in the shower, I decided to go out for dinner. I locked the door. He didn’t have a key. I knew this, that’s why I did this, but fuck him. So he was pissed off about that when I came back but he didn’t do shit.

The other people in the dorm were fucking hillbillies. It was a rural town, in a rural state, and it was just a bunch of hayseed-chewing fucks. I was from a major city.

We had construction paper signs with our names on them outside the door. Everybody did. Somebody at the school made them. But by the end of the semester, somebody ripped my sign and took my name off.

I didn’t talk to anybody. That was the problem. They didn’t like that. I wish that I was more sociable but I’m just not. That’s not how I am. Especially at the time and in that circumstance. I shouldn’t get abuse for this. But people find it offensive.

I made a complaint to the RN. Whatever the fuck that stands for. Some upperclassman. It was a woman. She didn’t do shit, of course.

Then I went back to my previous college after that semester. And that dumb fuck roommate went to some private school because he flunked out of this college that we went to. He got all F’s. I don’t even know how it’s possible.

All in all, the treatment I got wasn’t that bad. Nobody ever confronted me. Nobody ever gave me a swirlie or whatever. It was all just this feminine, passive-aggressive shit.

A few months later, I got a bill for $17 for damage to the communal entrance. There was like a windowed entrance and the windows kept getting smashed up by the hillbillies there. So the school decided to charge everybody for this. I didn’t pay. They threatened to withhold my academic transcript but I had already transferred the transcript to my old/current university.

They went after this $17 for YEARS. Numerous debt collectors. For seventeen fucking dollars. It cost them more in postage, sending all of these threatening letters, than the $17 that they were trying to collect. But it’s the principle of the matter, I guess. They thought that they were owed $17. No. I had nothing to do with those fucking windows breaking. I was hiding in my room all the time.

Anyway, from redneck America back to sophisticated London. I was living with these Indian guys.

The main tenant told me that I had to leave every week or so because the landlord does an inspection. I’m not sure why the landlord is doing weekly inspections or why I have to leave but I just went with it.

I cooked hamburgers a lot. Like every day. And these Indian guys didn’t like that. They worship cows or something. I don’t know the particulars. But if they wanted a vegetarian flatmate or at least somebody who doesn’t eat beef, they should have got an Indian flatmate. That’s just common sense. I’m not going to convert to Hinduism just because I’m living with these Indian guys. Tolerance isn’t a one-way street. You also have to tolerate my belief in eating hamburgers every day. It’s a part of my culture.

My room was just a tiny boxroom. It fit a bed and nothing else. It was also really humid. So I had a fur hat that got destroyed. Just from the humidity. I should have opened a window but I’m an idiot. I didn’t want these huge mayflies to get in, which inevitably they would. So the hat got mouldy and just disintegrated. Just from a month of being in that humid room. That hat had a lot of sentimental value but I had to throw it out. It couldn’t be repaired.

Then the landlord found out that we were all living there. And we weren’t supposed to be living there. The flat was only supposed to be for students. The only student was the main tenant.

What would happen is the people who originally lived there, who were students, moved out. This main tenant was supposed to then tell the landlord that they moved out so that the landlord could find new students to move in. The landlord gets a tax break or something if the property only has students in it.

But this main tenant didn’t want to do that. The main tenant wanted to just get people off the street to move in and jack the rent up so that it covers his portion of the rent and probably more. So he was making money off of this sub-letting.

When the landlord found out, he said everybody has to go. He gave us a month to move out.

This main tenant was talking to me and saying that he hopes that he gets to stay. Yeah. I really feel sorry for you. I hope it all works out. Meanwhile, I just moved in a month ago, assuming that this was all legitimate, and now I have to find another place to live.

I never talked to any of the people in this place. I don’t know their names. I don’t know anything about them. But on the last day we were there, we agreed to go out for drinks one day. That day has not yet arrived but it’s only been 15 or 20 years.

I think that I was doing data entry at the time in a property management company. I already wrote about that but that’s one of the articles that got lost so I’ll have to do it again. But the next property is in North London and it’s the last shared property that I ever had. So the nightmare is almost over.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *