The 5 stages of living off-campus grief

THIS IS YOUR LIFE NOW.

THIS IS YOUR LIFE NOW.

Ah, senior year. We’re nearing adulthood now. The fresh promise of the GCB awaits us, rendering the years of sweating it out at an AEPi frat party almost obsolete. It’s a new era of sophistication, responsibility, monogamous hookups, and wine and cheese dinner parties!

And we get to do it all off-campus. Right next to the favorite haunts of the John St. masturbator.

Underclassmen, take note: living off-campus is not all that it seems. Sure, we get living rooms–full of shitty furniture that we found off of Craigslist. Seriously, those bastards in Keeney have nicer lounges than we do. Wine and cheese dinner parties aren’t as fun when you’ve spent your entire month’s allowance on manchego cheese.

Actually, that was entirely worth it. If I could spend all my money on the hard cheeses, I totally would.

And monogamous hookups? A recipe for declining libido.

The original John St. Masturbator

The Original John St. Masturbator

Also, I thought having a masturbator roaming your block would be entertaining. Like free pay-per-view porn. But once he started wanking outside my neighbor’s homes, I got… well, sort of sad. He seems so pathetic, with his long black hair and questionable dress choices. A hoodie and no pants? In September?  Who are you, Miley Cyrus?!

I went through an off-campus crisis. It went something like this:

Denial

Living off-campus is great! My new neighbor and his two little girls seem super friendly! I’m going to cook quinoa-encrusted chicken breasts with kale every day and lose my Freshman 15! I’m also going to have regular house parties which only my cool senior friends can come to. My house is awesome.  My roommates are awesome. Everything is awesome!

Anger

WHY AM I CLEANING FIVE YEARS WORTH OF SUBLETTER PUBES OUT OF MY SHOWER DRAIN?! AHHH! CARA ANGRY! CARA SMASH!

Bargaining

I will literally pay you 500 dollars per hour to clean my disgusting house.

Depressionpassive aggressive note

The apartment still isn’t clean. I walked in on my roommate having sex and then walked out to find somebody jerking off outside my bedroom window. My other roommate has been leaving passive-aggressive sticky notes around the house. Like a note on a pile of dirty dishes that says “Clean me.”

Also, I tried to have a party and my laptop got stolen… and then my neighbor and his two adorable little girls called the Providence Police on us for “noise.” Those bitches.

And I still haven’t learned how to cook, so I’m subsisting off of Easy Mac, ramen, and Ben and Jerry’s. I gained a Senior 30.

Acceptance

Fuck this, I’m going back on meal plan. Oh Ratty. How I missed you.

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2 Comments

  1. “My fancy ivy league education has created a dependent lifestyle so deeply ingrained that I can’t get my head around the idea of living in an actual house where I can’t just leave my filth in the hallway for the facilities people to take care of. My feelings about sex are so dull that I can’t have it with the same person more than twice without hating myself. Taking care of my own needs is so frightening that I cry at least every other night trying to get to sleep and praying that maybe, just maybe, they’ll find some way to extend my Adult Day Care another 2– or even better 3 or 4 more years. LOL Miley Cyrus!”

  2. Cara Newlon (Author)

    I cannot lie: this guy’s criticism is totally accurate. I DO want to be in Adult Day Care forever!!

    Also, OMG: did you see she unfollowed Liam Hemsworth on Twitter?!

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