It’s not perfect, but Westwood is far better than Mom and Dad

While I usually complain about the ridiculous rent I pay to
share a room in a small apartment in Westwood, there’s
nothing like a trip home over the holidays to make me appreciate
it. And while I could get used to not having to shop for groceries
or take lightening-fast showers before the hot water runs out,
having my parents meddling in my social life is enough to send me
running to Westwood faster than Nicole Richie loses weight.

A night out for me typically ends with an alcohol-induced snack
session at my apartment. So during break, when I came home from the
bars and stumbled into the kitchen for a bowl of Cinnamon Toast
Crunch, I was fairly shocked to find my father sitting at the
table, ready to chat. The moment was more than a little awkward,
and it left me feeling like a high school senior caught with a
beer.

Even worse were the lectures I got from my mother on the dangers
of drinking before I went out for the night, as though I was a high
school girl going to her first alcoholic party.

But even though feeling like I was in back high school was a
little annoying, it was something I could live with for a few
weeks. What crossed the line and made Westwood look like heaven was
that parents in general apparently felt like being matchmakers this
Christmas.

When one of my roommates went home over break, she discovered
her parents were setting up two of their single friends by inviting
them to stay at their house for an entire weekend. So my lucky
roommate got to drink Cosmos and third-wheel it on a three-day date
between two 50-year-olds.

Let’s just say that she was so excited to be going out
with people her own age that she was actually looking forward to a
night out at Maloney’s.

Another friend of mine, who recently graduated, went to a family
friend’s Christmas party, where she was accosted by a mother
who wanted to set her up with her son after learning they both
lived in the same city. She even came armed with a framed 8-by-10
photograph of him in her purse.

It wasn’t long before I discovered that my own parents had
plans to set me up. It started with a casual reminder that one of
my father’s friends from the new church he had been attending
was coming over for dinner.

When I came home from a day of shopping, however, I discovered
that the friend was 25 ““ much closer to my age than his. I
didn’t think much of it until I was left entertaining his
friend at the table for 20 minutes while he helped cook dinner,
periodically entering the room to announce how long I was going to
be home and what movies I wanted to see.

I was still in denial of the possibility that my father was
trying to set me up with this guy ““ I mean, I just turned 22,
not 30 ““ until he brought up the movie he had rented the
night before, “Dot the I,” which he claimed was
good.

He asked the guy if he had seen it, and of course he
hadn’t, because who has? Then, looking at me, he suggested,
“Why don’t you two watch it together after
dinner?”

Thankfully, I had plans that involved me meeting up with high
school friends about five minutes after that comment.

So after alternating between feeling like I’m in high
school and feeling like I’m 35 with a social life consisting
of a carton of Chinese take-out and a cat, I was ecstatic to be
back at my Westwood apartment.

I no longer have to announce where I’m going at night or
put up with any “helpful” suggestions. Because
seriously ““ nothing kills a buzz faster than coming home to a
parental inquisition.

E-mail Rodgers at [email protected].