My Worst Roommate Ever Cost Me $800 — And I Still Don't Know How

I need to tell you about Marcus.

Not because I want to. Honestly, I've tried to forget the whole thing. But every time someone asks me "what's the worst roommate situation you've ever had," Marcus is the first name that pops into my head. And I've had some bad ones. Like, *really* bad ones.

This was three years ago. Portland. A three-bedroom in Hawthorne that seemed perfect on Craigslist — hardwood floors, decent kitchen, porch with a view of the street where you could watch people walk their dogs and pretend you had your life together. Marcus was the third roommate. Found him through a Facebook group. Seemed normal enough. Worked at a coffee roaster, had a bike, talked about "the craft" a lot. You know the type.

The first two months were fine. He paid on time. He cleaned the bathroom maybe once, which is better than never. Then March happened.

Look, I don't know what went wrong in March. Maybe his hours got cut. Maybe he met someone. Maybe he just... decided rent was optional? What I do know is that on the 5th, he Venmo'd me his share. On the 6th, he asked if he could "borrow it back" because his "car needed something." I said no, obviously. I said no three times.

On the 7th, the money was gone from my account anyway.

I still don't fully understand how. He didn't hack me — I checked everything. The theory I eventually settled on is that he convinced the bank it was a mistaken transfer and got it reversed. I don't know if that's even possible, but $800 disappeared and the bank's response was basically "sucks to be you."

Marcus didn't come home that night. Or the next. On day three he walked in like nothing happened, with a fresh tattoo on his forearm that said "NO REGRETS" in what I can only describe as Comic Sans style lettering.

"Dude," I said. "Where's the rent money?"

"Oh, that?" He actually laughed. "I needed it for something important. I'll get it to you next week."

He didn't get it to me next week. He didn't get it to me ever. He moved out two weeks later, in the middle of the night, taking my favorite mug and half the toilet paper with him.

The $800 came out of my savings. I had to cover his share plus mine plus the utilities he'd also stopped paying. It took me four months to recover financially. And the worst part? The other roommate — Sarah, who was great — moved out because she couldn't handle the tension anymore. So I lost a good roommate over a bad one.

Here's what I learned, and why I'm telling you this:

**Get it in writing before you need it.** We had a "verbal agreement" because we were "friends." We weren't friends. We were people who shared a wall. A simple Google Doc with who pays what, when, and how would have saved me so much headache. Not legally binding, maybe, but at least it's *something* when you're standing in the living room at 11pm wondering where your money went.

**Don't cover for people.** I covered Marcus's share because I didn't want to be "that roommate" who makes things awkward. You know what? Being "that roommate" is fine. Being broke is worse.

**Check your bank statements like a paranoid person.** I used to check once a month. Now I check every three days. Not because I expect theft, but because $800 taught me that money can disappear and you might not notice for weeks.

I saw Marcus once after that. At a coffee shop on Division. He was working there, actually. He saw me, smiled, waved like we were old buddies. I waved back because I'm not good at confrontation and also because Biscuit was in my backpack and I didn't want to cause a scene in a place that serves pour-over.

Biscuit hissed at him, by the way. Biscuit hates almost everyone, but he *really* hated Marcus. Cats know things.

Anyway. That's the story. The rent split calculator on this site exists partly because of Marcus. Because I wanted a neutral tool that removes the "I think you should pay more" conversation entirely. You put in the numbers, it spits out the answer, and nobody has to be the bad guy.

If you're reading this while currently dealing with a Marcus of your own — I'm sorry. It gets better. Eventually. Get a new roommate, change your locks, and maybe get a cat who can judge people for you.

— Jake