When someone moved out of our student house, the students' housing foundation used to send us a list with twenty names and phonenumbers. The praesens would then invite these people and they were given one hour to convince us that they were the best candidate. After that hour, we would mercilessly send them away to interrogate the next victim.
What were his hobbies? What did he study? Could he cook? How could one know someone in just an hour? Yet the decission had to be made.
So once Els graduated and moved to a real house, praeses Jim invited twenty newbies and we interviewed them. Yet one evening we waited in vain. The candidate didn't show up. Of course we could have scrapped him from the list, but Jim decided to give him another chance. He called the boy (let's call him Brad), who told him he had not been able to find the adress. Jim made a new appointment with him and gave him clear directions. We were fair enough to forgive the boy this mistake.
But... The next evening he didn't show up either. Jim called him again.
" Were you lost again?"
" Uh... No."
" Why weren't you here then? We have been waiting for you all evening."
" Oh. I'm sure you'll understand. See, Ajax was playing, so I had to watch."

That was it. He didn't get a third chance. We scrapped him from the list and chose a friendly looking girl who visited us the other day.

Yet that wasn't the end of Brad's story, for soon another room was left empty, and guess who was on our list again?
As Jim called him, he reminded Brad of the reason for the visit.
" If you're going to be our new flatmate, it'd be nice if we get to know eachother first."
But Brad's answer was quite a surprise.

" I don't fucking care who you guys are. I just need a room!"

Brad was scrapped from the list again. We were sure that he was the last person we wanted as a flatmate.
Yet the nineteen visitors didn't seem such great candidates either and we asked the foundation for a new list.

They told us we wouldn't get a new list. We had to choose from those twenty. We started to discuss them, but we couldn't agree. Jim phoned the foundation again to ask if we could get a new list.
Yet now it was their turn to get annoyed. We had waited too long. The room was still empty and had to be filled. They had made the choice for us. There was a certain candidate that had been on their list for a long time and who seemed unable to get a room anywhere else... It was Brad.

Flatmate Charles, who himself was an outspoken fan of Ajax was fierce in his reaction.
" If he comes, I'll toss him down the stairs, no matter if he's wearing an Ajax-cap or not."

Others wanted to hire a lawyer and a few letters were written and sent to the foundation. We didn't want this anti-social Brad as a flatmate.

But the foundation wouldn't give in, and on the day he would arrive, everyone had left the building, except for me. I was sitting in the common room, reading a newspaper, when I heard the door being opened. A tall guy in a tracksuit entered, tossed his bag on a chair and sat down swearing.

" Some bloody idiot sent me the wrong way. I could tear his head off."

I have to admit I felt a little intimidated, especially because I had heard of his earlier reactions to Jim. In the week before his arrival, his image had grown into that of some sort of demon.

Yet in spite of his choice of words, I made him some tea and we talked a bit about the usual things. It seemed he came from some rough neighbourhood in Amsterdam and that after some initial problems he was now studying psychology.

The following weeks, our expectations were turned upside down. Brad was a great guy, who helped wherever he could. He spent most of his time in the common room and was always willing to chat. And unlike some of my other roommates, he always came up with interesting subjects. Brad wanted to make this world a better place and he was full of ideas. He admitted he sometimes confused even himself, but his heart was in the right place.

Funnily enough it was Charles, who had threatened to throw him down the stairs, who became one of his best friends. They often sat in the common room together making jokes and, of course, talking about soccer.

Just how wonderful Brad was, I found out when I suffered my first heartbreak ever. The girl I adored had rejected me and I felt miserable. Most of my flatmates said a few comforting words, but after about a week they had had enough of my whining. Brad on the other hand, always listened. No matter how pathetic I must have been, he listened and he realy cared.

Somehow his past in a bad neighbourhood and a number of addictions had not made him hard and cynical. Instead it had made him a sensitive and thoughtful guy. He came up with helpful advice and it seemed he understood everything.

Later that year Brit arrived. She was an exchange student from Canada and just as with Brad, my flatmates had been a little reserved about her. When she arrived, she had bright green hair and a piercing through her eyebrow. But just like Brad had done, she won our hearts and minds.

It was no surprise that Brad fell in love with her, for they were very much alike, and when she went back to Canada, he had covered the walls of his room with pictures of her.

" This is my Brit temple", he said, and he smiled sadly.

A few months later I moved to another town, and after some time we lost contact. I later heard that he quit his studies went to Canada and that he stayed with Brit for almost a year, but eventually they broke up and he returned. That's the last I've heard of him...

A wonderful person, who wasn't quite what we expected.