Entitled Moochers Shocked That Homeowners Don't Want Their McMansion Turned Into Halfway House For Disasters
Ever notice how people with large houses become automatic targets for every down-on-their-luck relative, alcoholic friend, and barely-acquaintance looking for a free ride? It's as if square footage translates directly into some moral obligation to house society's walking catastrophes. Your spacious living room might as well have a neon sign blinking "VACANCY" to every human shipwreck drifting through the wasteland of their self-created disasters. What a fucking joke.
Background - We have a beautiful 4,200 square foot home in a beautiful neighborhood. We have no children and it's our happy place.
Several years back, we allowed a friend to live with us as she was going through a divorce and moving back to her home state. It ended up being a disaster. She was an alcoholic, and what was supposed to be a few weeks ended up being 6 months before we kicked her out.
My husband and I made a pact that no one would be able to stay longer than a visit like Christmas week, etc. Since then, we've had the following:
• My dad's ex-wife wanted to move in as she was having financial issues: we said NO
• My uncle wanted us to take in my cousin and her 4 children because she was experiencing homelessness due to her drug problem, and he wanted them to be in a stable environment. (So it's OK to make our environment unstable???) We said NO
• Now another friend keeps bringing up moving in with us because we have all this room. Again, we said NO.
We are getting very tired of people continuing to ask to move in just because we have the room! Are we being assholes?
The Absurdity of Human Entitlement
Let's dissect this pathetic charade of human relations, shall we? A couple builds their 4,200-square-foot sanctuary—their "happy place" in the terminally banal language of real estate brochures—only to discover that every relationship they've cultivated comes with an unwritten clause: "In case of personal failure, your spare bedroom becomes my emergency landing pad."
First, they make the cardinal mistake of allowing one friend—just one!—to crash during a divorce. Six months later, they're living with the human equivalent of a whiskey-soaked sponge who's transformed their guest room into a monument to alcoholic inertia. Fascinating how quickly "a few weeks" metastasizes into "half a fucking year" when you're not the one paying the mortgage, isn't it?
The parade of presumptuous freeloaders that follows is a goddamn masterclass in human audacity. Dad's ex-wife—not even blood relation, mind you—wants to move in because of "financial issues." Translation: "I've made a series of catastrophic decisions about money and now expect you to subsidize my continued incompetence." The sheer fucking hubris is almost admirable in its purity.
Then comes Uncle Enabler, proposing they transform their peaceful home into a rehabilitation center for a cousin and her FOUR children. Because nothing says "relaxing evening at home" like the thundering chaos of four kids raised by a mother who's chosen narcotics over housing stability. "You have all this room," he argues, as if empty space in someone else's house constitutes a resource that should be redistributed according to need, like some perverse domestic communism.
And finally, the friend who keeps circling back to the idea of moving in, like a vulture eyeing a particularly promising roadkill. "You have all this room," they repeat, as if the couple bought excessive square footage specifically to accommodate the poor planning of others. It's the real estate equivalent of seeing someone with a full plate at a buffet and asking, "Are you going to eat all that?" Yes, motherfucker, that's why I put it on my plate.
What these parasitic opportunists fail to comprehend is that space—like silence, solitude, and sanity—is a commodity these homeowners have deliberately purchased. The void is the product. The emptiness is the fucking point. Each vacant room represents not a wasted opportunity to house another human disaster, but rather a buffer zone protecting them from the very people who now want to invade it.
The Existential Punchline
Here's the darkly hilarious cosmic joke in all this: these homeowners are questioning if THEY'RE the assholes for not wanting to convert their personal paradise into a boarding house for life's losers. That's the real mindfuck—how effectively society has weaponized the concept of "having enough" against those who dare to define their own boundaries.
The truth is, we live in a universe of meaningless chaos where each of us is ultimately alone, screaming into the void. These homeowners have simply created a larger, more acoustically pleasant void in which to do their screaming. Why the fuck should they invite additional screamers into their carefully curated emptiness?
Their home is not a lifeboat for the drowning; it's their own personal floating device in the cosmic ocean of bullshit that is human existence. To expect them to compromise that—to repeatedly ask them to compromise that despite clear rejections—isn't generosity or community; it's emotional extortion dressed up as moral obligation.
Summary For Idiots Who Still Don't Fucking Get It
Big house ≠ free hotel for your messy life. 🏠≠🏨
People who say "NO" repeatedly aren't asking for better reasons to say "YES" 🙅♂️
Your inability to handle your shit isn't someone else's emergency. 💩
Empty rooms belong to the people who fucking paid for them, you entitled parasites. 💰
Got it now? Or do I need to use smaller words and more emojis? Jesus fucking Christ.
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