DORM LIFE! Booze! Towels rolled up under doors! No curfews! Boys! Now throw a girl whose dating experiences thus far consisted of three long-term relationships strung together with a shit-load of overlap (it was sort of like chain smoking, but with feelings) and you've created a perfect storm of self-indulgent extra-boyfriend-ial affairs! (I also blame my obsession with Robert Heinlein and his army of oversexed, matter-of-fact ladies. And my vagina. My selfish, selfish vagina.)

So yeah, a month into my freshman year, I went from single to exclusively dating a guy down the hall in my dorm named "Had a Sega Genesis and a Copy of Rebel Assault on CD-ROM" (NOT HIS REAL NAME). I woke up one morning, curled up in his arms, and didn't have the heart or energy to do anything but nod when he said, "You should totally be my girlfriend." Then I ran back to my room and told my roommate to shut up and stop judging me with her judgy eyes. She was a virgin and I smelled like gin.

Then "Ian" moved in down the hall from me (ACTUALLY HIS REAL NAME). He was a townie. I distinctly remember him showing me his bootleg Nirvana CD and telling me how it was going to change everything. We made out for hours at his parents' house while they were out of town. They had a lot of Mission-style furniture and sailing plaques. 

So for about three months I was in a "committed" relationship with both "Had a Sega Genesis and a Copy of Rebel Assault on CD-ROM" and "Ian." It was super. And by "super," I mean neither one found out about the other and everything was just complicated enough to keep me from thinking about what I was doing and how maybe I should instead concentrate on school and my future and who I wanted to be and all that.

Over winter break, I had time to chastise myself for being so duplicitous and did I think I was Anais Nin or something and should I cut my hair like Felicity or what—but when classes started up again in January, both guys were still cute and tall so I quickly pushed those worries to the back of my mind where I keep boring things like credit card bills and murals about poor kids.

One night the electricity went out on campus and everyone was gathered in the common room drinking beer and telling ghost stories. I was sitting on top one of the washing machines when:

A. I realized both dudes were gay. And in love with each other.

B. Everyone died, but not until after we all did a big choreographed dance number.

C. There were giant explosions and a talking robot cat.

Actually, it was D: I totally got away with dating two guys on the same floor of the same dorm without either one ever finding out. I also got away with being a total asshole.

I guess what I'm saying here is while nothing super dramatic happened to end these relationships (other than two awkward phone calls), and looking back, I wish there had been a robot cat explosion or well, anything to make me feel as awful as I should have felt. Instead, I'm mostly ashamed for using two nice boys to distract myself from making any kind of decision concerning my future. If I could do it all over again, I'd probably just buy my own copy of Rebel Assault and steer clear of romance altogether.

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