Day 10: The Most Awkward Diary Ever

Day 10 — The last time I snooped into something I wasn’t supposed to (like a medicine cabinet in a friend’s bathroom), I found…

Oh my gosh, it’s like this questionnaire knows my deepest darkest secrets. Maybe this one even falls into guilty pleasure – I have some absurd necessity to quietly poke through bathroom cabinets and cupboards when I am in somebody else’s home. Actually I even do it in my own home. It’s just a weird thing I do. Normally, there’s nothing interesting though. Sanitary napkins, makeup, cool skincare products, dirty razors, and extra tubes of toothpaste. Nothing unusual.

The one time I went snooping, and it resulted in a horrifying (MORTIFYING) memory that will probably scar me for life was Freshman year, however. September, 2009. It sounds so long ago, doesn’t it? I cannot believe we’re in 2012 already. It feels unreal, where have all my years went!?

Freshman year, I lived a glamorous New York City life on 5th Avenue with my two roommates. One of them, Luna, was a very close friend of mine. The other, code named Slut, was a white girl who had nothing in common with us. We stayed up all night, she woke up at 5AM to go jogging. We woke each other up, she didn’t give a shit. We went partying, she went to the Republican Club and tried to run for e-board. She was different in every way imaginable.

In our dorm, we had only one agreement when we wrote up “roommate contracts” as were required by our RA.

NO SEX IN THE ROOM.

It was a low-cost option, so the three of us were in one room. Probably the size of my room back home, but with 3 beds, 3 dressers, 3 desks, 3 chairs, a bathroom + closet, and 3 hormonal girls. Having sex in such a tiny room occupied with two other persons = gross.

Slut was probably dating/hooking up with 3 or 4 different guys at the time, but her “main squeeze” was this guy from West Point. I think they’ve been together since though, so I guess she must have done something right. Good for them. I’m sure she was a nice enough person, we just didn’t get along because our personalities were different.

One day, when she was out getting lunch with somebody, Luna and I came across this extremely girly looking book. In our defense, it was laying open. She had been writing in it and rushed out in a hurry to sign in some guests. Knowing we only had a few minutes, we snooped over (curiosity!) to see what she was writing. We were perpetually convinced she was saying bad things about us. More than once, we’d heard her say some really bitchy things about Luna when she thought she was being discreet. So that justifies the curiosity a little.

IT WAS A SEX JOURNAL. DETAILING HER SEX LIFE.

I have never been more mortified! She kept a log of every time she had sex. Sort of like a kiss list, but much, much worse. We found out she was having sex in our room with the West Point guy all the time! We also found out that she’d been cheating on her boyfriend since she got to NYU from California, and all the times he had snuck into her bedroom and they had “done it” while her parents were probably still awake.

Ew. I cringe just thinking about all the nasty things we saw in that journal.

We were grossed out by the whole affair, but particularly upset she breached the ONE explicit rule of our roommate agreement. She ended up moving out of the room by Thanksgiving after a week-long blown up argument that resulted in Luna storming off to crash downstairs in Carolyn + Sara’s room. (Names sound familiar yet? I live with Carolyn right now, in my off-campus apartment!) I followed her downstairs because frankly, Luna was my friend and Slut was not. We were only in the room to shower and get our clothes. She finally moved out and our new third roommate was CHRISTINE! She was a friend of Sara’s, and she is still one of my closest friends. In fact, I lived with Christine again sophomore year, and still see her regularly. Saw her today as a matter of fact.

But seriously, how gross is that? A sex log. I mean, if you want to write (in gross upfront terminology) what sex positions you enjoyed on what day at what hour in what location, do it on a more private sphere. A hidden or password protected file maybe, or a private online blog visible only to yourself.

A love journal, as it was titled. So grosss *shudder* We never snooped in her things again after that. The thought of what else might have landed on there…*more shudders*

xoxo,
Pryanka

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