Thanks Mom & Dad!

I think living with my parents has emotionally stunted me. Actually, scratch that, I know it has emotionally stunted me.

After graduating from college, I didn't move back in with my parents, I merely continued to live with them. Yes, all four years of the "best years of my life" were spent at home with my mother and father. I love them dearly. They keep me on my toes with their Bonnie and Clyde, sado-masochistic, tragi-comedy love affair. But thanks to them generously providing me with a roof over my head, a comfortable bed (rent-free!), food, support, and everything that a parent should do, I'm a perpetual 13-year-old girl.



The reasoning for living with my parents was pretty standard. Save money, pay back less loans, live awesome life once I get a paying job with benefits and such. I'm still looking forward to that at some point in the near future (please before I turn 25). But for now, and perhaps just in this moment, I'm bitter.

My father has inkling doubts that I might be of the Lesbian persuasion because I've never had a real boyfriend. I have failed to mention to him that instead of meaningful, monogamous relationships, I'm a perpetual semi-one-night-stander with an intense sexual desire and the need to validate myself through physical encounters.

That is what my parents would call "a puta." Yes, a slut. But I'm trying really hard to reform now. In fact, I'm making such an enormous effort that boys literally scare me. Even skinny hipster boys that look like their 13 with their floppy hair and dirty hats and ironic neon Nike Dunks. Even boys that I'm obviously more attractive than scare me. I'm absolutely terrified of them, and since I hardly ever get drunk, I can't work up the courage to pounce on them first.

I blame my parents for this.

I mean, how am I supposed to bring a cute boy home for a one-night stand (with a potential for future hook-ups/monogamy) to my home in the suburbs and to my bed - a mere 10 steps from my parents bedroom. I mean, I bet that sometimes they can even hear when I'm rubbing one out - they're just that close.

I blame my parents for my extreme lack of knowledge of courting males. My knowledge of getting a guy to like you comes from Disney and Molly Ringwald movies and romantic sitcoms. Most scenarios that I dream up in my head involve me looking gorgeously mysterious in some corner of a nightclub while the guy that I've had my eye on notices how gorgeously mysterious I am and shyly approaches me to begin either a) an endearingly awkward conversation or b) an intensely sexual one where he literally blows my mind with his sexy smartness, sarcasm, and wit.

This of course never happens.

Instead, I spend the whole night begging my friend to not tell the guy that I've been staring at that I think he's cute (when really that's all I want her to do) because I refuse to reveal to anyone except myself that I'm a 13-year-old girl.

So fuck it. Next time I'm out, and I see some cute mechanical engineering grad student from MIT, and he starts hitting on me, I'll fucking stay out until 4am. After all, I'm an adult.

At least that's what I keep telling myself.