Published on October 10th, 2013 | by Emmi Jacqueline0
My Worst Room Mate and 3 other Freshman Year Revelations
When I first started college, I realized that reality doesn’t always match expectations. I realized that people weren’t there to make friends and memories and all that other bullshit that they show in the brochures. I was confronted with learning to get used to the hung-over girls vomiting while I was brushing my teeth for Friday morning class. I was thrown into a world where I didn’t HAVE to do anything that I didn’t want to. I thought I knew everything at the young age of 18, and I was ready to take on the world with my newfound freedom. But reality started to sink in, especially the night my best friend and I had pancakes and ice cream for dinner. That night we both learned that just because you CAN do something, doesn’t mean you should.
My first roommate actually was the worst. She would come in at 7 am, wake me up, and then bitch about me being awake so early. She invited people into the room and tell them it was okay to sit on my bed; yes random person I never will see again, please sit on my pillow, its not like I put my head there when I sleep. I am sure she wasn’t trying to be a creature, I am sure she just didn’t realize what she was doing, or at least I hope so. While I went into the situation with the idea that we were going to be great friends, she was obviously not feeling the same way.
Fortunately she moved out within the first month and I had the tiny room all to myself, I was living like a king. I pushed the two extra long twin beds together to make something I called “Giant Bed” and called it fair. I might not have had a great roommate, but I surely had a great room.
No matter how horrible of an experience it was, I feel like I some how made it worse by moving into that second floor room from the 1970s with such high hopes. I hoped we would go to our first frat party together, and suffer through our hangovers over greasy dining hall food. Instead, I accidentally locked her out of the room when she went to shower, making me the bitch in her version of events. (It was really an accident and I still feel bad about it.)
The Dining Hall
When I was choosing my dining plan, I was stoked. The idea of having an all access food pass made my inner fat kid so excited. But after the first week, I was tired of the food; actually, it made me sick. I was physically ill for the majority of my first two years of college from shitty dining hall food. Yes, there was a salad bar, but it was never really fresh looking: limp lettuce, dried up carrots, but plenty of creamy dressing choices. I felt sluggish and was slowly putting on pounds.
My second year of college when I was desperate for a job, I worked at the dining hall for 6 months. I then realized why I was sick all the time and refused to eat in the dining halls ever again. All of the food was frozen. Here I was, paying nearly $9 a meal for something I could microwave in my dorm room. The deli meat was slimy; literally everything was frozen from the meat to the soup. Everything was processed and prepackaged.
Once I realized that I was putting such crappy food in my body, I forced my self to cook. It is amazing what you can with very little money if you get creative. Since then, I have learned my way around the kitchen and can make some delicious and healthy meals!
The Freshman “Boyfriend”
I met my college best friend at freshman orientation, we are still friends years later and I am the Maid of Honor in her wedding next summer. I love her to death, but I still give her shit for introducing me to the boy I dated/hated freshman year. She dragged him to my room the first week of college and we soon the three of us were inseparable and even soon he developed feelings for me. At this point, I was excited; I had never really had a boyfriend. We shared meals, we studied, we went out, we made out, we had sleepovers.
It was all fun and games till we go to that tragic point in young relationships; it was time to define the relationship. I gave him the ultimate choice: either we can make it exclusive, or I was going to seek out other partners. Thinking he was a big shot, he chooses the later. He later realizes he can’t handle this arrangement, which leads to a lot of heated discussions, awkward hangouts and drunken tears (his, not mine).
This emotional explosion was not fun in the end for either party. I continued to avoid him till he eventually dropped out and moved back home.
The Frat Parties
The idea of a frat daddy to a freshman is something wonderful, you imagine him standing there shirtless on the frat yard a little sweaty from a playful game of football with his brothers. He is nice and respectful, he represents something larger than himself: he represents a fraternity. This ideal is glamorous and sexy; it makes a young girl weak in the knees! And this ideal is great, until you go to a frat party and see drunk frat boys.
During second semester freshman year, a boy who I respected at the time approached me. It was late; he asked if I wanted to stay the night, I didn’t object all. My friends had left and staying the night with him seemed safer than making the trek across campus alone late on a Friday. He was a year older, had the same major as me, and could hold up his end of the conversation; an over all nice guy, or so I thought. And when I denied his sexual advances, he developed a hatred for me that goes on to this day.
Drinking cheap beer with my new friends was all fun and games till we would get approached by the blacked out frat daddy. His once elegant muscles now see ridiculous as he bongs a beer to prove how “manly” he is. He is a fallen Adonis, who smells like vomit and the best thing he can come up with is “You’re hot, wanna bone?”