I'm not going to say that I was the greatest roommate, but one of my first roommates (3-man dorm in Birch-Lindstrom) was a jewel.
What I remember most about him, personally, was that he was from the South, had the accent to go with it, and had a pretty good physique. Resultingly, he had at least three reasonably attractive women who were hard after him (without corresponding interest), though two of them were settling for being "friends", though obviously biding their time. The third, of course, is legend in her own right. But that's another story.
But the thing that I just loved about this guy was his consideration for his roommates. Not really a bad guy, he had this bad habit of going out on weeknights with his friends, and hitting the bars in Campustown.
Not such a problem, right? Well, the other roommate and I spent most of our nights studying or at intranurals--he was a PE major, and we got along well--then hit the sack around midnight--we both had early classes. On the other hand, when the other roommate got home from the bars (just after we had fallen asleep), it was time for
him to study--not only with the lights on, but his radio too. I asked, I
begged him to change his habits or study in the (deserted) den, but "It was his room, too, and he could do what he wanted".
Of course, the RA was from the Sergeant Schultz school.
Better yet, his mom would call every weekend, just like clockwork--at 8 AM. And of course, he couldn't be bothered to wake up and answer the dang phone, so after about twenty rings (this was the early Eighties) one of us would be forced to get up and answer, then find a way to wake him up.
He had a fairly unique name, so I could probably find him online--but have never really been tempted to.