How to deal with a housemate's partner

Must be careful here. OK. In my early 20s I lived in a share household with a uni-friend named Reuben (name changed to avoid lawsuits: he was studying law back then so he’s probably a lawyer now. Then again, it was Arts/Law so maybe not). Also living in the house with us was a Kiwi named Kara (name changed, but not for legal reasons. I slept with her one drunken New Year’s Eve and I think she’d rather forget the whole thing. Just protecting her dignity). And the fourth person in the house was a stoner-dude named Norbert (that’s his real name, it’s OK, he’ll have no memories about any of this. All he ever did was sit on the couch with a bucketbong and a large Hawaiian pizza. It may have been the same pizza).

It was a great share household: we existed in a harmonious state of housemate equilibrium. Everyone contributed equally: Reuben had a good part-time job so he paid for all the fancy household stuff like “food” and “toilet paper”. Kara the Kiwi did most of the cleaning and cooking because she thought cleaning and cooking was “rully truffic fun”. And me and Norbert sat around and watched TV on the couch, picking our toenails and building little toenail pyramids on the coffee table. The household had balance: we all played our part. 

Until the day Reuben did something unthinkable that rocked the house to its wonky-stumped roach-infested rising-damp foundations. He went to a party on a Saturday night, met a girl there, fell in love, and started bringing her home – no thought at all about the household’s finely-tuned dynamics, no consideration of our personal needs, it was pretty selfish.

Within a month, she’d pretty much moved in: she was eating dinner with us – the dinner that WE paid for with Reuben’s hard-earned money. Leaving her mess around the house – the mess that WE had to clean up, whenever Kara got around to it. Sitting on the couch and picking her toenails in MY dedicated toenail-picking couch spot. The toenails were the tipping point.

Her name was Alicia (name changed, because if I ever reveal her identity she will find me and she will kill me, with Liam Neeson-ruthlessness). And even though it was wonderful to see my good friend Reuben in a state of lovestruck happiness, I decided to do everything I could to destroy that relationship and restore the universe to its rightful pre-Alicia glory.

My evilness was really quite impressive. I ignored Alicia any time she spoke. I left rooms any time she walked in. I played loud music any time she was trying to sleep. I farted any time she passed me. I ate her take-away Pad-Thai any time she left it in the fridge. I used up the toilet paper any time she was next in the toilet queue – understand, I did it for the household, I did it for humanity. 

It worked too. I made things so unbearable that three months later, everyone moved out. Kara went back to New Zealand, Norbert found someone else’s couch to smoke bongs on, and Reuben and Alicia moved into a small apartment together and for some reason didn’t ask me to join them.

It cannot be done, you can’t get rid of your housemate’s partner when they move in. You just have to learn to live with them and accept them. Otherwise you’ll wind up like me. I had to move back in with my parents. It was a cruel, cruel punishment for my wicked, wicked ways.