Trowbridge Room 219

I live in Trow. Not Hoben, not Harmon — Trowbridge Hall. 

I read once that in the 70’s most couples met each other because they live in close living quarters like in the same apartment building or some shit like that. I didn’t believe that shit still happened since I grew up in LA and everyone dates everywhere and the internet is a thing. I didn’t believe that shit until the thing with ██████ happened. 

I originally didn’t even like him, I liked ███████. We watched anime in his shoebox of a room in Hoben. I don’t watch anime. But Cowboy Bebop was fun when I was in his arms. We only hung a few times before he told me that we couldn’t see each other anymore and that someone else in his posse liked me. 

We didn’t even get to see where it was going for him to drop me like that but it was what it was. He didn’t have feelings for me and he made that clear. So the short period of watching Cowboy Bebop ended. 

My roommate ████ is from Vietnam, █████ specifically. I was looking forward to living with her because, outside of my parents, I didn’t know many Vietnamese people, even fewer that were my age. It was hard thought. At times, I didn’t understand her Northern accent and other times, I couldn’t make out her English and what she was saying.  She also didn’t trust people that easily. Very reserved. Understandably so since she was in a foreign place. I often felt bad about asking her to repeat what she was saying. By the fourth time, I’d stop asking and just nodded. There was a huge learning curve in our relationship. The first two weeks we were establishing roommate agreements and boundaries. She said if I ever wanted to have sex in the room, to just let her know, that they taught her in international orientation that it is a common experience to get sexiled. I assured it would not be conceivable because I had never been in a relationship or dated, and I was a virgin. However the irony played out later that year that I’d have sex, be in a relationship and sexile her all before spring came. 

At one point in our room, we agreed not to lock the door anymore because we kept forgetting our keys and had to ask the RA all the time to unlock the doors. But once, I locked the door to signal that I needed the room and I was busy (a sock on the door if you will). But she walked in on me halfway giving a blowjob. It nearly mortified fabien. Luckily, I didn’t have to look at her while she panicked and grabbed her backpack because I was facing the other direction. 

Other times, she used dishes we shared, cooked food and left the dirty dishes in the room for das. Avocado smoothies crusted in the blender and fried rice stuck to the pan. Sometimes we’d go grocery shopping together and I’d never see her buy soap. Come to think of it… I never saw her carry soap to the community shower either, just the towel and poof scrub. DID SHE USE SOAP? 

Some nights, we’d stay up talking until 3AM about home: █████ and Los Angeles. Talk about our parents and their expectations from us. Talk about growing up Vietnamese/American. Talk about the War.