Roommating

Today is the first day of the rest of your life; your destiny awaits, you tell yourself. But who are you kidding. . . you stopped believing in bullshit like fate a long time ago. The universe is governed by dumb luck and strength of will. In that case, today is just another day. You hope it will be better than the day before.

You watch your parents pull out of their parking space in their bug splattered minivan, noticeably lighter now that your stuff is not in it. Your mind is flooded by memories of high school. Put bluntly, you floated through it, daydreaming every grade away. You came from Hicktown, USA. You had friends but none of them were close. Your grades were not exceptional. The girls were mostly would-be housewives. The few you dated were hunters and closeted lesbians. You didn't make an impression on them and they never interested you. But here you are, college boy, in a medium-sized west coast city where your chances for happiness are dramatically higher. The only memento of your past hangs on the wall: your high school basketball jersey framed in glass. It might impress somebody.

Everyone on your floor has gotten a roommate except for you. ?What's the deal?? You ask the dorm leader. You secretly hope you'll get the room for yourself, and frown when he tells you that there's been a screw up in the paperwork and your roommate will be arriving within a few days. The room is small so you make sure, whoever your roommate is, he'll have enough space for his stuff. You even claim the top bunk in case he's afraid of heights. You're such a nice guy.

A couple days pass and it's Sunday. Your roommate hasn't arrived. Class starts Monday. You're tired of waiting, so you plan to go to the leader and request to have the room to yourself. Tell him you've discovered you have schizophrenic sensibilities and need the room to yourself.