Yes, it was just as stupid as it sounds. And no, it was not like New Girl at all.

I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to move in with six guys. Maybe it came from watching too many episodes of New Girl. Maybe I wanted to try and finally loosen up a bit. But mostly, I think I was just sick of living with girls.

Also, in all honesty, I kind of had nowhere to live. I was fighting with my best friend over dumb stuff and my other best friend had already signed her lease. So fall semester of senior year, I moved into a house with six randos — guys I had found through the off-campus housing website.

This might sound obvious, but I should probably say this up front: It was not like New Girl at all. There was no bonding or singing or cute coming together moments. Though, one of my roommates was actually named Nick Miller (I kid you not), so there was that I guess.

I should also clarify that I only ended up living there for one semester. Because one time one of my roommates woke me up in what ended up becoming one of the most terrifying nights of my life. And that’s what this story is about.

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Credit: Google Maps

Most of my roommates were relatively cool. They were chill and non-threatening. Just sweet boys pretending to act like men. But one of my roommates, we’ll call him Sam, had serious anger issues. He also had a history of alcoholism that the other guys had tried to confront him on but had basically given up on by the time I met them.

Sam was an arrogant business major. By December of senior year he already had a $70,000 job offer and was skipping classes to go work out, drink and smoke with his buddies.

One school night I was asleep in my bed — it was probably around 2 AM — when I heard shouting in the kitchen. My bedroom was just a few feet a way so I could hear pretty clearly it was Sam and one of his friends. It sounded like Sam had just gotten back from a routine night of drinking, which meant he was beyond wasted.

That’s when I heard him start to scream my name at the top of his lungs. He was screaming for me to come out of my room, to come and “play” with them.

I tried to hide under my covers and pretend I wasn’t home. I made as little sound as humanly possible so as not to arouse suspicion, but he started pounding on my door. He was a big dude and although my door way locked from the inside, it felt like he could break it down any minute.

I started silently crying. I had heard so many stories of campus rape and I knew if he got into my room I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

I considered calling the police but I was afraid he would hear me. I considered going out the back door of my room but I was afraid he would see me in the backyard and come grab me.

After what felt like 45 minutes, the pounding and screaming finally stopped. He was still in the kitchen but had moved on to smashing dishes.

Under the covers I called my sister as quietly as I could. She told me to call the police but I told her I thought the worst was over. Besides, I was still too scared.

He eventually left the kitchen to go who knows where. I stayed up all night in a panic, afraid he would return. The next day I went to look at apartments and within three days I had found a new place to live for the remaining semester and someone to sublet my old room. I never saw Sam again.


Lena Finkel is the Editor and Founder of Femestella. Prior to starting Femestella, she worked at People, InStyle, and Tiger Beat. Her favorite Housewife is Bethenny Frankel (by far!), but when she’s not watching RHONY, you can probably find her hanging with her kitty Tom or tweeting at Sen. Chuck Schumer.

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