That One Time, Freshman Year

So my roommate was great freshman year. She was quiet at night and in the mornings and had great taste in music. We became fast friends and bonded over our mutual love for a young Harry Styles and our rampant mental illness.

She told me one weekend that her friend was coming to stay, and I was psyched. It was early freshman year so my weekends weren’t exactly booked up. As a matter of fact, at no point during freshman year was I “booked up”. I literally had like 4 friends who didn’t even like me that much. Anyway, she told me that her friend was dog-sitting, and asked if it’d be okay that she bring the dog when she came. No dogs were allowed in the building, but because I was such a rebel-ehem- I agreed. I was sure it’d be a small, well behaved dog or else she would never dream of bringing it to a college dorm room for the night. Right? Oh ho ho, not so.

So my roommate and her friend brought the dog in through the back door, up the fire exit stairs and into our room. When the door opened, I saw two small girls and a bear. The dog was a massive pile of curls with gigantic legs and a swinging tail. It was quite a bit larger than my 5’2″ and could barley fit in the space between our beds.

I began to hyperventilate.

“We’re going to get kicked out of school and never get jobs and I’ll be a failure and have to settle for an old balding man with a big gut to pay the bills.” I mean, it was a legitimate concern. But my panic was ignored.

The dog sniffed around. Marcus. His name was Marcus. Let’s not discuss people giving their pets obviously human names, I do not have the energy for that.

I was slightly more understanding when I saw the friend had brought Cranberitas. Free alcohol is the universal language for college freshman, you don’t argue, you just accept. After a while, Marcus seemed quite well behaved. He’d be fine in the room by himself while we went downstairs to the communal kitchen to make cookies right? YEAH! So down we went, leaving the bear cub in our room with our laptops and clothes and bedding and carpet and 6 empty cans of beer stacked into a pyramid.

We were downstairs for 15 minutes before I got the call. Our neighbor two doors down, a kind girl who I had a small but fervent girl-crush on, called to inform me that our door was unlocked, there was a giant dog in our room barking very loudly, and that there was alcohol everywhere.

The hyperventilation returned.

My roommate and her friend hauled ass upstairs as I tried desperately to figure out what to do with the tray of cookies I had just taken out of the oven. I decided to go ahead and bring them, I couldn’t leave them; they were the sugar cookie kind with the little Jack-o-lanterns printed on them. You know the ones. Maybe Marcus was hungry; he could have a jack-o-lantern cookie, he had a hard day.

I got to our hallway just in time to see a small crowd of people forming outside our door. This group included our RA, who I’ll call Problematic Hottie. He was dorky and small but charismatic as hell, and my roommate and I were both hopelessly giddy around him.

I was tipsy, nervous and clad with cookies; I could only muster a very small “excuse me” as I pinched myself through the crowd and into our room. The three of us stood silently staring at Marcus, trying to figure out if he would survive the two story jump out our window, before a soft knock came. I looked through the peep hole (thank god for peep holes btw like wow nice one, humanity). The knock came from Problematic Hottie. God, he was cute. I glanced at the other two; I had to open the door, he had seen me come in, and so I did.

His eyes fell on Marcus and I could feel my future slipping away. I saw my destiny as an unsuccessful, broke, cat lady, solidifying; no degree, no friends; my one life on this earth had been soiled by this mutant bear cub, dog-beast-thing. I glared at the dog and prepared for death. But wouldn’t you know it, something amazing happened.

Problematic Hottie smiled, let out a single belly-laugh, and bent down to pet Marcus right on the face. He cooed over him like a baby for a good 5 minutes, posing for several pictures and making small talk. We didn’t bring up the fact that no dogs were allowed in the building, and neither did he. He only glanced at our alcohol pyramid once and said nothing. Problematic Hottie said he’d be back to visit Marcus in a bit, and promptly left.

I thought I was dreaming. We looked at each other for a while, then at Marcus; he was kinda cute after all. I silently climbed into my bed, not bothering to speak to the other two (my heart was still recovering from Problematic Hottie’s presence) and stared at the ceiling for an hour. The image of my future as an unsuccessful cat lady gave way to a future as a successful journalist, married to a young Harry Styles. Marcus then let out a single bark, and that was that. The four of us slept easily (and in a small amount of makeup) knowing Problematic Hottie, would be back again in the morning.