As a twenty-five-year-old graduate student I still live at home with mom and dad. It’s not like I’ve never left, there were those four years at Smith College in Massachusetts and I spent last year in Spain studying for my program. Everyone I met in Europe thought it was so cool I was from the United States and they thought the California part was even better. Now my next door neighbor leaves mean notes on my windshield telling me not to park in front of his house on trash day. I solve my little real estate issue by referring to my parents as “roommates” whenever I’m in a social situation with people under the age of fifty, as in, “My roommate is such a bleep, she said if I didn’t wake up before eleven she was going to tell my dad, I mean, my other roommate.” If I’m being honest with myself, it isn’t a complete surprise I’m still a virgin.
Yep, still a virgin, and just to clarify, not a Jessica Simpson purity ring virgin, no, just your regular old haven’t found anyone that I’m willing to have sex with yet kind of virgin. I was really hoping things would turn around in Spain, but of course the only guy I was interested in was off limits (cut to me shaking my fists at the sky, why God?). Online dating is my latest experiment, more to come; in the meantime I’ll just get ready for my younger sister’s upcoming engagement that everyone knows about but no one is allowed to talk about. She and her non-fiancé are living an exciting life in Las Vegas working for the Nevada Democrats inviting my mom to events with Presidente Barack Obama, while I’m stuck at home with my dad eating frozen pizza, watching Cops, writing papers on the homoerotic undertones in Don Quixote. Thanks life.
