My suitemate has gotten even more unnerving this semester, and we've not even been back two weeks. You may recall my regaling the board with the tale of him and his voodoo doll. The night I got back (he was gracious enough to pick me up at the airport, for which I am grateful), we went to dinner with him and his mother, who is controlling enough that he is never in the dorms on the weekends (he goes home). He ordered a steak; she insisted it be well-done. (Dude's nineteen). It was also revealed that he has a long-distance girlfriend who lives on a farm in the boonies, although upon further prodding, we discovered that she's actually a girl that he has told he's going to ask her to be his girlfriend. It's all very fourteen-ish. Despite his entry into this chaste and holy relationship (he is very Baptist, despite my best attempts to turn him into an agnostic crypto-Catholic like myself), he decided to memorize- and occasionally recites to himself- the blurb about consent that we got on the little "do not disturb" doorknob hangers that they handed out at the beginning of the semester. It's not entirely clear why he does this, since he is way too straightlaced to bring girls over, and hopefully too straightlaced to bring them over by force. Finally- at least for now- you may remember how he took a selfie with one of the black guys on the hall last semester to prove he is Not A Racist. To further this aura of equality and acceptance, yesterday he proudly informed us that he celebrated Martin Luther King, Jr. Day by going to the fried chicken place on campus for lunch.
Dude's a piece of work.