A little more than a year ago, I threw up my little white flag and said, “Alright, I get it. I give up.” Moving back in with my parents felt like the ultimate defeat, but what was I to do? I had this fabulous job that had me fabulously broke, and my dating spree had me exhausted. I needed something simple and comforting: mommy and daddy.
I’ve always been an anti-social roommate and living with my parents proved no different. I was either not home or locked up in my charming bedroom dressed in yellow walls and whitewash furniture. It made me want to squeeze someone’s cheeks—usually Foxy’s.
During one of my nights of solitude, I decided it was time to stop being a victim. Sure, I cold roll up in a little ball and have Dad gas up my car while mom cooked me dinner. Or I could stop being a pansy and go after the things I wanted. Thankfully, I chose the latter (but not without resistance, of course).
A good friend of my mine once advised me to make a list of all the qualities I wanted in a guy. After completing the list, I was to stash it and then wait for some super human dude to come. Listen, I had nothing else to lose at this point. I was recycling old flings and Foxy didn’t care to snuggle as much anymore.
