No one really tells the truth about themselves when you meet for the first time freshman year. Too desperate to make friends, traits from high school get lost, attachments to old music and TV shows are abandoned, and too many people start pretending to like Radiohead and Dave Matthews Band. The dorm is a hostile environment, and it's no place for the weak-willed Celine Dion addict.
So, in order to make friends and find future roommates, I've been living a lie since freshman year. And three years later, I was found out.
Freshman year I became the girl who could throw back shots of Fleischmann's without abandon (I still question if that was actually ever a good idea), knew all the lyrics to Guster songs and fake cried a little when ""Friends"" went off the air. By the end of January, I was debating several potential living situations, had people fighting over me and had a dry erase board that was filled with messages.
It was going so well, but I knew it wouldn't last. I couldn't stop the lying—now, lying to get people to live with me was a survival tactic.
But my carefully crafted fake self had started to be exposed.
My three roommates and I were sitting around one rainy afternoon. The second season of""Saved by the Bell"" was on TV, and I was quietly doing homework.
""Hey Caitlin,"" my roommate Mary said. ""Which ‘Saved by the Bell' hunk would you rather go to prom with?""
""Oh my god,"" I said laughing. ""Totally A.J. Slater.""
The room went silent.
""You mean, A.C. Slater,"" she said.
""Yeah, that's right. He's so dreamy.""
I could tell from their disgusted faces that I had done something wrong.
""You don't know who A.C. Slater is, do you?"" Mary accused. ""Have you ever even watched it before? Do you know what happens in the end? Who does Zack Morris marry?""
""Oh, totally ... that one with the hair. Kristy.""
""For the love of god, it's Kelly Kapowski!""
At that point, I noticed one of my other roommates get up and walk into my room. I heard rustling.
""This is serious. You made it sound like you watched ‘Saved by the Bell' all the time when you were little. That's why we picked you to live with us. We thought you were cool.""
At that point my other roommate emerged from my room with a stack of the most damning CDs possible. Tom Jones: Reloaded was on top.
""You told us freshman year that you listened to him because your parents made you,"" Katy said.
""You made it sound like it was a joke to you! You never told us you actually liked this—"" Jill, the third roommate, interrupted Mary, ""Casino auditorium crap.""
""Oh my god. You were serious when you said you wanted to have a ‘Titanic' themed party!""
It took three months of apologizing, as well as a ‘Saved by the Bell' education, a Pop-Tarts exploration evening (I had never had one. Freshman year I said it was my favorite breakfast food) and a Ben Folds Appreciation Night. I learned a valuable lesson—lying in order to get roommates is a dangerous game. I'd never trick other potential roommates again. Maybe not...
Fast forward three months to this summer at my house in Washington, D.C.
""Hey, when are you going to start baking food?"" my roommate Zach asked. ""You told us in your application that when you get stressed out you like to bake a lot, and you haven't even opened the oven yet.""
I guess I lied again.
