I ended it with him... not because he's a pest but because he HAS pests!

A couple of years back, my close friend was plagued with the roommate from hell. No, she wasn’t bringing back strange men, drugs or stinky food. In fact, she wasn’t bringing back anything to their apartment. She just thought she was. She was convinced she had infested their space with bedbugs.

At the time, a couple of years ago already, her incessant fears seemed ridiculous. Bedbugs!? Her bumps on her legs could easily be explained by irritation caused by shaving. And those night itches? Those could certainly be explained by anything at all that causes itching, not just bedbugs.

The situation spiraled out of control when my friend would wake up at 5:00am only to find her roommate sealing all of her clothing in plastic bags. She was struggling to keep those imaginary little critters off of her linens and, as far as we know, she was successful: she never really did have any bugs. We ultimately recognized her insanity when she called her mom as she was packing for a trip to Italy. She panicked that not only her bugs would follow her to Europe, but also that it would be her fault that the entire continent would later be infested.

Crazy? Yes. Unusual fears for then? Certainly. But now in 2010, with a bedbug crisis pervading through most of New York, does her behavior still strike us as insane? Perhaps a little, but definitely not as much as it was back then. I guess we could argue that she was ahead of her time, but I think that I’d still say she represents a psycho-roommate.

In 2008 it was absolutely a little nutty to be freaking out about potential bedbugs and even crazier to have to listen to your roommate stress about them. Who would have thought, just two years later, that her irrational fear would become a rational one for countless people? And now this fear doesn’t just involve roommates, but also boyfriends, girlfriends, dates, husbands, wives and one-night stands.
The thought had never occurred to me before reading a CNN article called “Got bedbugs? New Yorkers may scratch that relationship.” Having bedbugs, whether imaginative or real, seems to effect our relationships with those around us, mainly because there is such an infestation in our country right now. Who would have thought that we’d have to consider the presence of actual bugs before hopping into someone’s bed? Moreover, who’d think we’d have to consider other bugs besides scabies (EW.) before sleeping with someone?

According to this article, these little guys are breaking up relationships (both casual and not) more often than we’d imagine. The situation causes people to forgo physical interaction with others, in fear that the bugs might spread to their own bodies and clothing. Additionally, the bugs are causing more people to panic like my friend’s roommate did, even when no bugs really crawl through our rooms. That constant panic alone can easily cause rifts or tension in a relationship. I mean, really, would you want to deal with someone whose thoughts of bugs occupy their entire train of thought all day?

We can, though, learn a few things from this article. First, you shouldn’t crawl into bed with a random person. This is not only because of the factors we can all name immediately (STDs, physical danger, etc.), but because you really don’t know what else is lurking under their sheets. We also can gather how serious of a problem these bugs are-- how quickly they spread and how rampant they truly are-- and why it’s so imperative that we take action if we ever actually find them in our apartments.

But do I really think that we can definitively say that bed bugs ruin relationships? Absolutely not. We all face stressful matters in all of our social and romantic relationships. But if you’re going to let these teensy little dudes ruin what you have with your significant other, I’d argue that you have much bigger problems somewhere. We can all easily mask the issues and say that bedbugs are ruining our lives, but really, it’s important to realize that maybe you’re ending your relationship because of your small guy and not because of your small creepy-crawlers.

PS: I actually don’t mean that. Well, not completely at least. Don’t break up with a guy because of his size. Just don’t. But we’ll get into that another time.

My Advice? Move on to the next one!

I’m not a tough person. I cry in the shower when a coworker makes a nasty comment. I endlessly replay situations where a friend issues me a backhanded compliment.

When it comes to dating, though, I’m pretty tough. Let’s put it this way: if you’re coming to me for advice regarding a guy who just isn’t treating you well, I’m not going to sugarcoat it and tell you that maybe, sweetie, he’s just going through a tough time. I refuse to allow your pretty little mind to think that, yes, it’s acceptable that he won’t label you as his girlfriend or show you off to his friends.

Know why? Because it’s not. Nope, not acceptable at all.

So after he finally breaks up with you (or you’re lucky enough to break up with him) I’m not going to be sympathetic when you keep running back to him. You miss him—I get it. It’s downright painful to cutoff all ties with someone who you’d text midday from the bookstore because you saw something they’d like. You’re probably used to checking on him during his lunch break at work and maybe he called you every night before bed.

But listen, sister, a breakup is just that: a BREAKUP. Don’t you even think of running back to his cozy bed dressed in plaid, unwashed sheets. You can do better—at the very least you can sleep in your own WASHED sheets— and you know it.

Whenever an applicable situation comes up I like to reference one of my favorite books of all time, He’s Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys by Greg Behrendt. (Please note that I’m not talking about the movie with the same title. It was based off the book but failed to sufficiently convey the book’s messages accurately.)

Anyway, this summarizes my above-referenced feelings, which some might perceive as my nasty-bitch side, to a T:

Breakups, I've heard, are supposed to be just that. Breaks. Hard, clean breaks. No talking, no seeing, no touching ... keep your hands to yourself. The relationship is over. Half the people I know move after a huge breakup, and frankly that makes perfect sense to me. You're not supposed to sleep with the guy who just broke your heart a week ago. Fine. Next time I'm in this situation I'll cry. Stay in bed and wail. Go to the gym if I can. Call all my friends and burden them with my misery. Sleep too much. Cry some more. See my therapist more often. Get a puppy. Do whatever I have to so eventually I can move on. –He’s Just Not That Into You

So what if you get that, you’re following the rules and not talking to him, and he’s the one calling you to tell you that he ate a fabulous corned beef sandwich on rye with spicy mustard, ran an amazing 4.667 miles and, oh yea, by the way, he misses you, baby?

Yes, he broke up with you, but he’s still the one running back for comfort. He made the conscious decision to not be with you, but he still feels like it’s alright to call to ask you about your day.

I have no explanation for why this happens, but it seems to happen frequently. Really, a lot. Now I never advocate for retaliation (it’s better just to let things go and, as idealistic as this might sound, “be the bigger person”) but sometimes it’s best to in your own way dig it back to him.

Don’t answer his calls. Don’t run out when he emails asking to meet at Starbucks to catch up. Allow him to miss you, to consider what he gave up. Certainly don’t rerun your dramatic relationship ending where he called you fat and you told him that his member was small over and over. Don’t wish him anything bad or even be rude or short to him. Just don’t. It’s not worth your time.

Over time, I’ve learned that the sooner we let go of these freaks, the ones who treat us poorly and forget that they can’t just have us anytime they so please, the sooner we’ll get closer to finding Mr. Right. I’m not saying that we’ll ever find Mr. Perfect, but with each bad egg we crack, that’s one down and we’re one person closer to discovering someone kind and compassionate.

So, if nothing more, remember this: the next time a guy blows you off for balcony seats at an NBA game, consider what he really means to you and, more importantly here, what you mean to him. I mean, really, he’s not even ditching you for courtside seats, but balcony seats? Come on! Move on.

XOXO,
R.