Let’s be honest, no one you have ever met is as weird as my Freshman year college roommate. This is not debatable. For anyone about to head to college, this is the ultimate nightmare. For anyone who’s been through college, you probably know someone similar. By the end, I’m not sure who you’ll feel worse for—Dave, or me.
I received a letter in the mail in the summer of 2000 informing me I was to reside in Kostka Hall, a dorm on BC’s upper campus. The letter also included contact information for my future roommate—Dave. I called Dave a few days later and it didn’t go as well as planned. Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a big phone-talker, but Dave made me look like Joan Rivers. I learned 4 things on this first phone call: he’s from Boca Raton, loves Metallica, hates sports, and talks like Butthead.
Dave was weird about his video games. He would sit on his bed playing Gameboy for hours on end because The Legend of Zelda had the most intricate storyline of any game he’d played. Dave was weird about his music. He was an extremely talented guitar player but he would rage on you if you came within 5 feet of his instrument. He also almost killed me when I told him the bassist for Metallica had left the band. Dave was weird about social interaction—he even ignored me if I saw him on campus. And he walked on sidewalk edges like balance beams. You might be thinking, “ok, he’s a little quirky, but not that bad.” Right?
Dave was weird about his personal hygiene. I noticed early on that he didn’t shower everyday. Then it turned into once every couple days. After that, once a week. One night in November, Dave attended a MegaDeath concert and returned to the dorm around 10pm. He went to take a shower and didn’t return for another three-and-a half hours. Little did I know, this would be the last time I would see Dave shower for the rest of the school year. Since I noticed that he didn’t shower again until Christmas break, I decided to start a counter when I got back of how many days he could go without showering. As disgusting as he was, Dave became my own personal Truman Show. I rooted for him not to shower in the hopes that he would get to 100 consecutive days. He eventually did—though it was quite anti-climactic. People ask me, “How do you know for sure that he didn’t shower?” Trust me, it was practically written all over him in dirt follicles.
Not showering was a byproduct of what I (and many others) believe was Dave’s underlying problem—he must have had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. You might think, “How could he have OCD and not shower?” I think the communal showers grossed him out so much that he couldn’t bring himself to use them. But as a result, he refused to touch anything. He wouldn’t touch the TV remote because I touched it, so he watched TV by standing in front of it, leaning against the dresser on which the TV was placed, and using his elbow or an empty Coke bottle to change the channel. He wouldn’t touch the keypad lock on our door either, so once again he’d used his elbow, a guitar pick, or a coin (which never made sense to me since money is one of the most germ infested things out there). Because I’m evil, when I saw him coming down the hall I would close the door and then watch through the peep hole as he toiled over how to get it open.
For one reason or another, Dave liked to be naked. Not stark—but down to his boxers, socks, and sandals. He also loved Dominos. So imagine your roommate eating a whole Dominos pizza and downing two 20 oz. bottles of Coke while standing next to the TV in nothing but his boxers and socks. And then belching. When he got toward the end of a piece, he’d lift it above his head and dangle it down into his mouth so as to not eat the piece that his own hand touched.
Dave also didn’t vary his clothing too much. He once wore the same clothes for 13 days straight, including the same boxers (just shy of 2 weeks—another milestone I was hoping he would reach). The featured ensemble, as if I could forget, was an old gray/blue tee shirt and a pair of black wind pants. And of course he would promptly disrobe upon returning. Obviously. Unfortunately, I didn’t even get to witness one of my all-time favorite Dave stories, but here’s my friend, Ryan, to give the play-by-play:
“At that point, we had already established how weird he was; he would walk past us on campus and not even acknowledge that he knew us. Plus, he had stopped showering months ago and smelled awful. Anyway, the winter of our Freshman year was the coldest winter that I had ever experienced at that point of my life—it was absolutely FREEZING outside. Dave and I had a Theology class together and the class had about 40 people in it. Even though it was December, we were still Freshmen and weren’t even close to being comfortable with everyone at this point. I definitely wasn’t comfortable with everyone knowing that I knew this weird kid in our class, but like I said, Dave didn’t even acknowledge any of us on campus, so it wasn’t really a problem. Anyway, class started and no sign of Dave. About 10 minutes into class, the door opens and in comes Dave, wearing only flip flops, shorts and a leather jacket…no shirt underneath. So his bare stomach and chest are in plain view and completely red from the cold. He had this scraggly beard and looked and smelled homeless. The class completely stopped and Dave just stood in the doorway, shivering, and all he could say muster the energy to say was “Boy, its COLD out.” The whole class was so shocked that you couldn’t even laugh. Plus, you could literally smell him the minute he opened the classroom door. I’m just sitting at my desk with my head down, trying to avoid contact with this homeless looking freak. So Dave finally realizes that the class has stopped and is waiting for him to sit down. He slowly walks in, walks down my aisle, stops at my desk, and goes, “Hey Ryan….pretty cold out huh?”, and then sits down in the back of the classroom."
One of my other favorite Dave stories happened in mid-February, and some of you who don’t like sports may give him a pass for this one. Keep in mind that college football ends in December, though our last home football game was in November. I had put on my BC shirt to go watch our basketball team play a 1PM game, and Dave was just waking up. He sees me in the yellow shirt and says, “Is there a football game today or something?” Mid-February. Yup.
Our room smelled literally like a dumpster by the end of the year, and I’m surprised anyone ever came to visit me. I toughed it out for a whole year, despite considering on a weekly basis if I could take it anymore. Had I not had the experience with Dave, though, I wouldn’t have stories to tell, and I wouldn’t have met other friends who I met simply because I had to get away from the guy. But I would defy you to find a weirder person than Dave and if so, I would love to hear the stories. On second thought, I think I’ve endured enough.
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