Is it me?

I hate my flatmate. Like, really *really* hate him. At this moment in time I can't think of enough nasty adjectives to describe him, and I'm only one post-it note away from becoming one of the mad twitchy people you read about in the Daily Mirror and Take A Break. Gahhh. As my friend Furious Piglet and I sat by the Serpentine yesterday, we discussed all the various miscreant eejits I've shared homes with. Back when I was at college, there were the 3 girls I shared a house with. We haven't stayed in touch, I can't be friends with people who spend that much money on glitter. When I first moved to London, there was the insane cousin I rented a room from (fair dos to me though, she really was a looper, she snuck into my room once and nicked the bottle of ouzo Furious P bought me back from Greece, then put the empty bottle back in its box after she'd guzzled it). When I moved to SW London, there was was a brief period where everything was good, in that I moved in with someone who was pretty much like me, we drank similar amounts of red wine, and shared a hatred for all things Richard Curtis. Then she bought her own place, and Brummie Girl moved in. BG used to stare at me as I watched TV, and ate so loudly I could hear her 3 rooms away. And now I have the ignorant Kiwi Guy there. It all started so well, too..... he was charming, good looking (not my type though, nowhere near Irish enough) and he baked cheesecakes in his spare time. And then it all started to go wrong: he was charming only when he was trying to charm the knickers off the laydeez, he baked the cheesecakes only when he was being charming, and his laydeez of choice were skinny and exotic pieces of fluff who were none too bright (a piece of cheesecake and you whip your pants off? Seriously??). It's getting worse too. When I go away and ask him to feed my darling little rodents, I come back and they're half dead from thirst and starvation. He leaves cereal bowls on the side for over a week. He's a slob. He's rude. And now he's trying to get into the aged pants of our upstairs neighbour. I mean, like, ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww. But as Furious P pointed out , I can't be so unlucky that nearly every person I've lived with has been a pain in the a*se, maybe it's me and my inordinately high standards that are the problem?

So on the urging of many friends, who are bored of listening to me whine about the ignorant nobhead, I'm looking for somewhere small for me and the rodents. It shall be my haven, where nothing shall glitter, no booze will disappear in mysterious circumstances, all food shall be consumed quietly, and no cheesecakes will be baked for seduction purposes. Hurrah.