Why Dragons Make Terrible Roommates - A Survivor's Guide

The housing market being what it is these days, many of us have been forced to consider alternative living arrangements. Some brave souls—whether driven by financial necessity or a misplaced sense of adventure—have even ventured into the treacherous territory of dragon cohabitation. As a three-time survivor of such arrangements (and yes, the burn scars are real), I feel uniquely qualified to warn others about the perils of sharing your living space with these magnificent but problematic mythical beasts.

Hoarding: More Than Just a Hobby

The first and most obvious challenge of living with a dragon is their notorious hoarding behavior. What starts as “just a few gold coins” in the corner of the living room rapidly expands into mountains of precious metals, jewel-encrusted goblets, and the occasional enchanted sword that glows at inconvenient hours of the night.

Dragons are not interested in concepts like “personal space” or “equal division of the security deposit.” My first dragon roommate, a mid-sized red drake named Cinderscale, began with a modest collection that fit in his bedroom. By month three, I was sleeping in the bathtub because my room had been commandeered for “treasure overflow storage.”

Pro tip: Never, ever move a single coin from a dragon’s hoard, even if it’s blocking the refrigerator door. That commemorative doubloon might look insignificant to you, but I assure you, your dragon roommate knows exactly where every piece is placed and will notice its absence immediately.

The Heating Bill Situation

If you think your utility bills are high now, wait until you’re living with a creature whose idea of “a bit chilly” is anything below volcanic eruption temperatures. Dragons have no concept of energy conservation or peak usage hours—they simply exhale flame whenever they feel the slightest chill.

During my winter cohabitation with Emberwing the Magnificent, our monthly heating bill actually caused our utility company to send a representative to check for meter malfunctions. Explaining that my roommate was a 12-ton winged reptile with internal flame sacs didn’t go over well and led to an awkward visit from both the gas company and the local mental health services.

Dietary Considerations and Kitchen Etiquette

Let’s address the elephant in the room—or rather, the half-eaten elephant in the room. Dragons are carnivores with appetites that can only be described as catastrophic. Your carefully labeled lunch containers mean nothing to them. Neither does the concept of “cooking” as they prefer their food raw, slightly charred on the outside, and preferably still screaming.

Meal planning becomes particularly challenging when your roommate considers the neighborhood livestock to be a “snack” and local knights in shining armor to be “delivery food.” The constant complaints from farmers and royal families quickly become tiresome, as does finding pieces of armor in the garbage disposal.

Visitors and Social Complications

The social complications of dragon roommates cannot be overstated. First, there’s the constant stream of would-be heroes showing up at all hours, brandishing swords and reciting poorly composed poetry about their impending victory. These uninvited guests rarely clean up after themselves, especially after being reduced to ash on your welcome mat.

Then there’s the princess situation. Dragons, particularly the older ones, have an inexplicable habit of kidnapping royalty. Nothing complicates your Saturday morning more than finding a tiara-wearing hostage eating your cereal and asking if you have Wi-Fi so she can update her Instagram with #kidnapped #dragonlair #waitingforrescue.

Sleep Disturbances

Dragons snore. Not your average, human, nasal-passage obstruction snore, but building-shaking, window-shattering, registering-on-the-Richter-scale snore. My last dragon roommate, a particularly vocal Welsh Green named Mountainrender, actually received noise complaints from neighbors in adjacent ZIP codes.

Additionally, many dragons suffer from sleep-hoarding, a condition where they unconsciously gather treasures while sleeping. You might go to bed with your dragon roommate safely in their room, only to wake up missing your laptop, smartphone, and anything else with a shiny surface.

The Security Deposit Situation

Let’s be blunt: you’re never getting your security deposit back. Between the claw marks on the hardwood floors, the scorch patterns on every wall, the ceiling damage from tail-swishing, and the lingering smell of brimstone that no amount of Febreze can mask, your rental property will never be the same.

Many landlords now specifically include “no mythical creatures” clauses in their lease agreements, right alongside “no pets” and “no waterbeds”—a development I personally take some responsibility for after the Great Apartment Fire of 2022 (sorry again, Mr. Peterson).

In conclusion, while dragon roommates may seem like an exotic and exciting departure from the usual “guy who never washes his dishes” situation, I strongly advise against it. If, however, you remain determined to proceed with this living arrangement, I recommend investing in flame-retardant furniture, apologizing to your neighbors in advance, and perhaps most importantly, finding a really good therapist who specializes in interspecies cohabitation trauma.

Remember, when a dragon says they’ll just be there “until they get back on their claws,” you’re looking at a minimum tenancy of three centuries. Consider yourself warned.