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 jrodgers@media.ucla.edu.

