Welcome to Chicago

You've just unpacked, shoved your parents onto that Chicago Tour Bus which you know will get your teary-eyed mother and camera-happy father away from the campus for three hours. You look around and see your roommate playing Diablo. He's killing Mephisto in a Gothic cathedral that looks like the one outside your window.

You go to the house lounge. It's going to be a gathering of all the people in your house! You. Are. So. EXCITED!!! You want to see that Sabchin girl who's been facebook stalking you for two months. Is she as hot as she claims to be? Her pictures look pretty damned good.

The meeting starts. The girl you're sitting next to gives you a long look. You don't notice. You're looking for Sabrina. The RA goes over the standard stuff, do socialize, don't set off the fire alarm, don't hit the sprinklers with a broom, no means no, yadda yadda. Midway through you feel somethingcold and wet on the back of your left hand. It takes you a moment to register what is going on. She's drawing a heart on the back of your hand with pink glitter.

You realize, too late, what a facebook stalker looks like without photoshop. Everyone sees the heart. The hot girl from Georgia (the country), your neighbor in the dorm, has already noticed and is talking to some other dude.

And then you realize that you shouldn't have broken up with your high school girlfriend.

Welcome to Chicago.