[M]aking a lot o[f] love in my parents’ bed

Summer 2015 was a professional cocktease. I had moved back home to live with my parents after attending professional school over 2000 miles away. With my degree in hand and a string of failed interviews behind me, I was in the unenviable position of being 26 years old with no income and no assets. There was no way for me to afford rent and the concept of taking a job outside of my field was, at the time, wholly unpalatable. I travelled a lot for different interviews with what meagre funds I did possess, but my days were typically spent around the house, on my laptop. Each potential job seemed to mock me with its perks and starting salary in a thoroughly sadistic way.

I sought out social events like a Sahara marathoner would water. It became a fun game to see how much fun I could have with as little money as possible. Reconnecting with friends was fun and I was honestly moved at how many had seemed to genuinely miss me while I had been away for school. One of these was Alexa, a friend that I had met at a party about two years previously. We had hit it off during our first meeting and it seemed to me at the time that there was undeniable chemistry. Later in the evening, I learned that she had a boyfriend and adjusted my expectations accordingly. Still, she was a blast to spend time with and I was glad to have her as a pal.