You stick two eighteen year olds in the same room and tell them they're rooming together for the rest of the year and there are going to be tiffs between them. I don't care who they are. You may have two incipient Mother Teresa's in that room but, at age eighteen, they're going to have fights.
So it was with Debbie and me. We'd been allocated the room at the start of the school year and we were stuck with each other. Me, I'm dead easy to get on with, but Debbie can be a bit narky at time. And she's much more of a neatnik than I am, although that doesn't mean that I'm a slob.
Now I'm not saying that any little tiffs we had were always Debbie's fault. I'm woman enough to own up to having a few minor faults, and perhaps the blame for some of the fights rested on my shoulders. Still, I've always said that if Debbie wouldn't get so uptight over little things, things that don't really matter, we wouldn't be squabbling.
Take the current instance. I had a date lined up. I thought it was going to be a hot date, with interesting prospects at the end of it. Turned out that this guy was such a loser that I don't think he's even joined the human race yet. He's another story, though. I'll tell you about him some other time. The point is, I thought he'd be a real nice guy, and I had to dress to impress, now didn't I?
So when I was changing I spotted Debbie's nice blouse just lying on her bed, doing nothing. That blouse looks real good on me, so naturally I borrowed it for the date. I don't mind sharing my stuff and I didn't think Debbie would mind me sharing hers.
A little bit of a very nice lippy and a dash of perfume and I'd headed off, places to go, men to conquer.
Like I inferred earlier, the date was a wash. I couldn't believe that I let that guy talk me into a date. First and last one with him, I assure you. After giving him the shake I met up with some friends at a nightclub and hung out with them for a while before calling it a night and coming home early.
Debbie was already in our room when I returned. That was expected. She'd said she was doing some studying tonight and going out tomorrow night. What wasn't expected was the filthy mood she was in. She jumped me as soon as I walked in the door.
"Why are you wearing my blouse?" she demanded. "You didn't ask if you could borrow it."
"Hey, it was just lying on your bed and you weren't going out so I knew you wouldn't need it tonight."
"No. I just need it tomorrow night. And I especially washed and ironed it so it would be nice for tomorrow. Now look at it."
OK, so I'd managed to get a bit of grot on it. Geez. It'd wash, and then all you had to do was iron it again.
"Well, don't get your panties in a twist. I'll wash it tomorrow and have it ironed ready for your date."
"You're kidding, right? I've seen the way you wash and iron things. Just give it to me and I'll do it myself."
Suited me. I don't like washing and ironing my own stuff, let alone someone else's. I took off the blouse and tossed it onto Debbie's bed while she continued to give me a killer stare.
"What?" I said, spreading my hands in an expression of bewilderment.
"Nice lippy," she said through clenched teeth.
Um, yes. She'd got me again. She never liked me borrowing her lipstick, which is fair enough. I don't like people borrowing mine.
"Ah, yes, um, I sort of ran out and I didn't have time to go and buy some and I was going on this date. . ." My voice trailed off guiltily.
"Oh, I see," said Debbie, her voice all sweetness all of a sudden. "You were in a hurry. I suppose that's why you accidentally picked up my good perfume instead of your own stuff. You only have three bottles of your own."
But my perfumes were cheap stuff. Good enough for most things but not for what was supposed to have been a hot date. Debbie's perfume, on the other hand, was sensational. It probably cost more than all of my bottles combined. She really did have a taste for fine cosmetics.
All I could do was look guilty, which was easy, because I was.
"It's not good enough," railed Debbie. "You've gone too far. I'm going to complain and get another roommate. Someone who has a bit of respect for other people's property."
Now that I couldn't have. I'd get a big black mark against me if Debbie did make a formal complaint. What was worse, if the staff listened and agreed, guess which of us would have to move. I'd lay odds that, being the villain, I'd also be the bunny, and I quite liked this room.
So I grovelled. You know, mea culpa, and I'm sorry, and it'll never happen again, grovel, grovel, grovel.
The little bitch was adamant. She'd had enough of my wicked ways and she wanted blood.
"For crying out loud," I finally snapped. "What do you want me do? Bare my bum and get a spanking? I've said sorry."
