Ask Andy: Health-Hazard Housemates and Maddening Men

Dear Andy

University is the time we learn to live with others, to be respectful and accommodating of their space and individualities. But at what point does this go too far? At what point should we put our feet down? I feel like I can put up with a lot when it comes to living with quirky souls but cutting festering fungal toenails and leaving them on the kitchen table, discovering pubes in the bathroom sink, and a sweet little family of maggots lingering at the bottom of the fridge does not fill me with love, with joy. At what point does it become too much? Where is the line between ‘good flatmate’ and unreasonable? My flatmate’s personal hygiene is disgusting. I have tried reason, words, ignoring it. Help me Saint, get creative – what should I do?

Grossed-out Gertrude

Dear Grossed-out Gertrude,

Oh dear, that really does all sound rather horrific. No one wants to crunch down on someone’s else’s toenail clippings while eating their Cheerios, nor trample over a carpet of pubes when they go to the loo in their own home (but perhaps a lovely new addition for Dunelm’s home-furnishing range?). Clearly you’ve been terribly accommodating thus far — I think a bit too much. Enough is enough. To be honest, it would be totally understandable for you to now retaliate in kind.  So if you felt compelled to start using the microwave as a deodorizer for your worn socks, or start leaving the loo brush in her room,, I wouldn’t blame you. However, given that your flatmate seems to be a genuine health hazard at this point, I’d recommend contacting Fife Council’s environmental health services. After all, you don’t want some new life-threatening virus being unknowingly cultivated in your flat. COVID was bad enough — you definitely don’t want to be responsible for the next pandemic!

Love, Andy x

Dear Andy

It all starts with the classic ‘so I met this boy.’ And he makes you feel great and he’s lovely and then poof! He’s gone. In a town where attractive men that you or your friends haven’t slept with are scarily scarce, this occurrence takes on a whole new meaning. But it’s so common. Does the inordinate imbalance of men to women here nurture a generation of self-inflated egotistical men? Does most of the male population here experience no emotional connection with women, no accountability, no shame? He says he has never had a connection like this before, he is in awe of your beauty, your mind. You laugh. You know he’s full of shit. But this attention’s rarity makes it wildly appealing. Tell me, Saint, is this emotional torturous breed of men unique to this town? 

Love Jilted Jilly

Dear Jilted Jilly,

I’m sorry you’ve been the victim of ghosting. And I empathise with your struggles to find a decent man in this town. I’m an agony ‘aunt’ for a reason — I too am perpetually single (not bitter at all, don’t worry). I’m not sure that this “breed” of man is St Andrews specific; however, the smallness of the town does perhaps exacerbate it somewhat. It feels as though they’re all either taken, gay, or emotionally stunted. That being said, St Andrews is bigger than you think, as the briefest of scrolls on Tinder will highlight. Get yourself out there, queen! The love of your life might be waiting for you all the way out on Lamond Drive. Or maybe try attending some more niche societies — perhaps you have a thing for men in plastic chainmail, and you won’t know it until a handsome man at the Mediaeval Reenactment club sweeps you off your feet (possibly with a lance). Either way, if you haven’t found love in the Vic, Rule, or 2am-Wednesday-night Shawarma queue by now, it’s unlikely that you’re ever going to find your future husband there. If all else fails, try dating women instead — they’re far better in bed, I promise.

Love, Andy x