When my roommate Milly vanished overnight to move in with her boyfriend, I assumed she’d at least handle the rent like an adult. Instead, she ghosted me for two months while I covered everything alone.
At first, I was glad to have a roommate—Milly was nice enough. But she never bought essentials, used my things without replacing them, and was constantly late on rent. Promises to pay me back turned into guilt trips, and nothing ever changed.
Once we switched to a month-to-month lease, she disappeared—no explanation, just left her stuff behind. I later found out she was living rent-free in her boyfriend’s mom’s basement.
When I asked about rent, she said, “I’m not living there, so why should I pay?” I gave her multiple chances to communicate. Nothing. Not even her mom’s vague reassurances helped.
By July, I’d had enough. I packed up her things with some friends, donated the junk, saved what looked valuable, and the landlord changed the locks. Milly was off the lease anyway.
Three days later, she showed up screaming. Turns out, her boyfriend’s mom had kicked her out. She begged for her stuff—then exploded when she realized her grandmother’s wedding dress was among the things I donated. But she’d left it in a plain box, no label, no warning.
She threatened to call the police. I told her I’d documented everything. She left fuming.
I don’t feel bad. She didn’t just ghost me—she ghosted her responsibilities. I just made it official.
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