Am I the Asshole for Pursuing My Newfound Passion: Yodeldores?
We at The Slant are fans of the popular Reddit thread r/AITA (Am I the Asshole) because we get to pass judgment onto walking psychopaths with a worse sense of accountability than that guy in your Calc II class with seven Title IX violations—a favorite pastime. Today we wanted to flip the tables and give the readers a chance to judge one of our very own Slant writers, who remains anonymous at this time but whose name may or may not rhyme with Bam Bliman.
(21M) Roommate just filed a formal complaint to OHARE about my “unnerving behavior” and “disturbing torture tactics.” Though his claims are completely unfounded, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt by appealing to you all through AITA.
See, I’m a good roommate in general. When I’m sick, I cough on every surface in the room to strengthen his immune system. I also make sure to only play Mariah Carey’s best hits on full blast at 3am so that it doesn’t interfere with his studies during the day. And I never sexile him, my girlfriend and I just have rough, hot sex in front of him and invite him to join (isn’t that so polite?). Honestly, I think he’s just playing the victim to get out of our weekly roomie-bonding feet massages. He didn’t have to get me kicked out of our dorm to do so, all he had to do was ask me to stop peeking under his covers and fondling his feet right as he falls asleep.
He says the breaking point is me practicing my new hobby in the room. For context, I went to the Student Involvement Fair a few months ago and for the first time in my silly little life, someone told me I have potential. See, I’m a lump of coal, but the Yodeldores promised to make me a diamond. When Yodeldores president Lig MaBallsach proclaimed that my throat was perfect for the sport, I knew I had to join the group. But now my roommate is crushing my dreams by not letting me practice in the room. Auditions are this Friday and he should be supportive of my need to yodel every free hour. It’s not my fault the brick wall behind his head is the best place to yodel. The acoustics there are fantastic and the way it reminds me of talking to my high-school girlfriend is actually quite soothing. Plus, I’m willing to compromise—I would stop yodeling into the electronic megaphone I stole from the Vandy Boys head coach if he only asked.
So Slant readers: am I the asshole?