Dear beloved readers,

At last…February is here, the shortest yet coldest month. Pardon for my delay on updating you guys, I too was facing the blizzard that haunted the East Coast and I thought to myself “I don’t want to update the blog anywhere but at my local Starbies, with an iced Mocha in hand and a bagel with cream cheese in the other”, well, I got the Mocha, the bagel is multigrain (yikes) and with butter. Not perfect but it will do.

Yesterday, I went out with my two closest girlfriends I got here, Kate and Ash, and it was…a blast. It was a night filled with garlic bread, honey ricotta, and pasta – and I was extra fancy and had it with seafood and all. To say we feasted is an understatement. I had so much of that honey ricotta I think it’s safe to say my body is 70% water and the rest is jut honey ricotta. It was the first time the three of us went out together outside of class, and if we are counting first night outs with our friends as dates too – and I think we should – then this was one of the best dates of my life. 

This semester so far has been as stressful as I tried to verbalize on my last update. So many assignments, so many reads, so little time. I blink everyday and it is already 6pm and I have to leave for class. And between trying to understand what the fuck rhetoric means and trying to write an essay – did you know that I am an essayist now? I guess you do, cause apparently I’ve been writing essays for years now and calling them blog posts, who knew!? – about what it means to be sexy, I’ve been tired, and in need for some relaxation. 

Having a social life has been helping immensely. Especially when said social life includes people who are literally going through the same as you are, and I will tell you, it never gets better than hot goss about our classes’ inner circles. It almost made me forget how much I miss my dear Tony, but I guess I will never stop missing my troubler in crime. 

I guess it is safe to say I don’t live with the most progressive people. I know it is surprising, as I literally live with three other girls, who are younger than me, and therefore should probably be even more woke than I am. And I mean the good woke by the way, not the Twitter woke buffoonery. But while two of them literally call every woman they know “bitch/slut/cunt/whore” – and trust me, I too thought we had reclaimed those, guess not –, the other one, though more quiet and respectful of our fellow sisters, dates a jerk. If you want to know what I mean by “jerk” let me quickly elaborate it for you, paint you the picture, give you the deets. 

This guy, with a Kurt Cobain complex plus a fragile masculinity is my living hell. He shits in the toilet I share with his girlfriend and he leaves it looking it exactly like what your nutella looks spread on your bread, I am not kidding, but instead of delicious chocolaty spread on a toasty bun, it is shit on the seat. Still on his bathroom etiquette, he, in an apartment where only women live, doesn’t lower the seat after he pees. So when little ol’ me wakes up at 7am every morning, and still very sleepy, walks to the bathroom, sometimes…I FALL IN THE GODDAMN TOILET. Beloved readers, there is no amount of therapy that will ever make me get over this traumatizing incident that, pains me to say, has happened more than once. He burbs, he farts, he laughs too loud, also I spent last night hearing them having sex after I came home from my fun dates with my girls – and before you call me a nosey bitch, we share a wall, it wasn’t by choice. You may be thinking: Girl, it ain’t that deep, he is not your boyfriend so you don’t have to even see that guy that often, plus, I bet they can hear you and your man too. 

I would like to address these in a list format, if I may:

1. He is over most nights of the week.
2. Did I mention I share a bathroom with her and, consequently, with him too?
3. Yes, they probably can hear me and my man too. I am not shaming them, I am saying the imagery of fucking a shitting pig is one I cannot erase from my brain and one you will have to live with from now one too.

I hope that clarified everything. I think something funny happens with people when they live in college, they think everything is fair game. It is very entitled, a way of almost saying “this is my house”, when it literally isn’t. It is a shared living space that requires respect, understanding, and respect – yes, respect again. I am not obviously saying there should be more rules about what can or cannot happen, I wasn’t born yesterday, in fact, even though I am very much maturer than my roommates despite being close in age, I still remember clearly what it felt like to live away from my home from the first time. I remember what it felt like to not have my mom snooping on my life and having a false sense of independency. I felt invincible. And I also know that rules would just make everyone who lives in a dorm building, more compelled to rebel – and by the way our hallways reeks of weed, I don’t think we need any more rebels. 

Obviously, I also bring my boyfriend over, but I am not, by any means, a hypocrite for it. First of all, Big – wait, am I about to make this a thing!? Oh god, I think I am. Big is a grown man, no twenty-something bullshit, and a lot of aim in the bathroom. When he comes over, he isn’t allowed to roam around the house freely as if it was his own, this is like I said a shared living space and if I am not comfortable with these girl’s boyfriends walking around – sometimes shirtless – on my kitchen, my man knows better than that. His bathroom etiquette makes me think he comes secretly from the royal family, and, last but not least, did I mention he is a grown man? Yeah. This is the biggest, most tangible difference between my person, and the Shrek. 

See, now that I am writing this I am beginning to wonder why would my roommate date such a beast. But I think she is awfully passive as a person, back to how feminism seems to be ages away from my roommate’s vocabularies, I remember one time, while we shit talked about the concept of a Sorority – in a non sexist way on my behalf, of course – she told me, with all the goddamn letters, that sorority girls were too “opinionated” and she didn’t like that.

Like. What?!

Yeah, it is weird. Maybe the GenZs are doomed, and even though I am a GenZ, I ain’t dumb like that. I did my homework, I got educated. Plus, I can’t even blame her for brushing past the shitted toilet and the flatulence, one look at her face and I know she is in love, irrevocably so. And maybe, in this sense, love really is blind. But not about the physical – we are all way too superficial for that to be true – but about the flaws our partners may have. Obviously it bothers me as I have to co-exist with this scenario at the moment, but I just have to keep reminding myself that it is temporary, and hopefully, soon, Big and I will have a bathroom to call only ours, and as you know by now, that is not a flaw I have to ignore about him. 

Well beloved readers, it is good to be back. I hope the cold doesn’t freeze me on this brief walk back home, and I also hope it doesn’t get warmer any time soon. I complain a lot about it but I love it a lot. Stay safe, and out of trouble, but if you don’t – oh my god, tell me all about it.

– Your Girl on the Go