Being in the Music School at University of Miami, I was able to move into the dorm (the Quiet Study Floor; 24 hours of enforced quiet from Sunday 5pm - Friday 5pm) 1 week before the other students. Like a good geek, I had already staked out my side of the room when I met my roommate.
I ran into him on the Friday after I moved in. I introduced myself, I came out to him right on the first meeting. He seemed really cool about it. He was fairly easy on the eyes, but I had no desires for him. It was relieved and thought that the semester was going to go great.
When I returned on Sunday night, he had moved out. I went to go talk to my RA, Jack, to find out what was up.
Jack was smoking hot! And, my jaw must have hit the floor like a frakking anvil. Jack, smiled and said something like, "Well, you sure did manage to scare that one away."
The next roommate was some guy from Port Harcourt, Nigeria who grew up in British boarding schools. He really was cool with my being gay. We got along well and hung out for meals together and such.
Unfortunately, something happened and one night I came back to the room and saw shit everywhere like the place had been ransacked...but it was only on his side of the room. He started smoking dope in the room and making phone calls in the middle of the night. Then, one Sunday afternoon I came back from the weekend and him and his stuff were gone.
Again, I went back to Jack for the story. BTW, Jack used to signal the end of Quiet Study hours by opening his dorm room door and blasting his stereo. He was such a frakking prick tease too, parading around the floor in his short little nylon running shorts showing off his beefy hams and such. But I digress. Jack, smiled and said something like, "I don't know how you do it, but they had to take this one away."
It's not my fault he lost his mind.
I had the room to myself the rest of the year.