Some years ago, I found myself really needing a new place to live. I knew someone who knew someone who needed a housemate. Basically, because I was not in the position to be picky, I accepted it without too many questions. My housemates were an annoying pothead hippie her 7 year old, and a furry. Not just any furry, mind you, but the head of some sort of local furry chapter. He was significantly overweight, bull-necked, bullet-headed, and extremely unattractive - like algae on the gene pool unattractive. So ya, basically the worst stereotype. Given that we shared a house, I tried very hard to be nice to this person and I wasn't interested in making him feel judged or shitty about himself - even though I don't fucking understand the furry thing to save my life. Here's what living with the ultimate furry stereotype was like:
- He'd invite hoards (packs, flocks, gaggles...?) of his gender-ambiguous, socially awkward, and sometimes downright creepy friends over for furry barbecues. It was a great people watching experience. I'm sure the old, Mormon neighbor lady though so, too.
- Leave his ENORMOUS - like where the hell did he find them this big?! - condoms in the toilet after having selfy-selfy time in his bedroom. Apparently, he preferred his butt toys to be generously sized.
- Smoke pot all day and then complain that he smoked pot all day.
- Wear satyr-leg costume while lounging about the house, all while letting his enormous, bulbous, hairy belly (and back) hang out for everyone to see. \
- The never cleaning anything and eating everyone's food probably goes without saying.
- And perhaps the most upsetting for me personally: I had just washed my face in the bathroom before bed and I picked up the hand towel on the rack beside the sink. I used it ON MY FACE before realizing it had been used to mop up my furry housemate's body hair after he had shaved himself...everywhere. My face was COVERED in his back, chest, and pubic hair. There are no words to describe my horror.
