Humor by Lana Tleimat
Life under quarantine has been a struggle for everyone, but especially for me. As a student at an extremely well-funded private university, I’ve really struggled with making the best use of my ample time and resources after Stanford kicked me out last spring. But what about your college experience?, I hear you saying. I know! What about my college experience?! After an entire year spent slumming it in beautiful Airbnb resorts across the West Coast with my friends, I’ve had enough.
Thankfully the pandemic, and my suffering, is over. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself as I party like it’s 2019. Which is fine, because I’m vaccinated. I mean, I got the first shot. Or, at least, I got a shot — but who knows how my uncle got his hands on a vaccine. So I’m pretty much immune … right?
Yet, despite the struggle of last year, I’m finding that there’s a lot I miss about life during the pandemic (which, in my opinion, is over).
When again in my life will I have so much time to myself? With my schedule now totally packed with indoor brunches and underground — sometimes literally — concerts, I find myself missing the days where all I did was get out of bed and then back into it. I almost wish we’d have another pandemic (on top of the one I’m currently ignoring), just so I could get back to watching TikToks and not answering my phone.
Since my friends and I threw caution to the wind and got back out there, I’ve been under so much pressure to pull. I swear guys are worse than they used to be, but maybe that’s because I can only see the ones who share my total disregard for human life. On my third Tinder date this week I sat and listened while he listed all the funny things he had said while drunk, sighing to myself, Is there all there is? Matt, I don’t care that you once told a bartender that you were the rabbi and the minister. At this point, I’d rather just go home alone, like all these public safety signs have been begging me to.
Wearing comfortable clothing
Like many of us, I haven’t worn pants in almost eighteen months. ( … I know. I was trying something out.) Now that I’m out almost every night, sharing space and spit with tons of hot strangers, I have to suffocate these steaming gams with denim-colored spandex once more. Alas! To be stuck at home again, braless and carefree … those were simpler times.
But maybe the whole point of the pandemic was to take a step back and be grateful for what we do have. Sure, lots of people died, but at least I feel more self-actualized.
Editor’s Note: This article is purely satirical and fictitious. All attributions in this article are not genuine, and this story should be read in the context of pure entertainment only.