When I first met Hazel at the infamous Orientation Week Ice-Cream Social, they seemed normal, holding a soggy cardboard ice-cream bowl and making shitty small talk about their major and where they’re from. As I continued to get to know them, they seemed like your average freshman: pre-med until they started struggling in CHEM0330, always asking “who’s throwing” and “what the move is,” and constantly using Sidechat and Instagram as their public-facing diary. From posting aesthetic dispo photos from Keeney lounge parties to trying to develop a friendship with the cashier at City Smoke Shop so they could get freebies, they seemed just like me FR.
However, when I saw their room for the first time, I knew something was up. Instead of having a mattress topper that was sliding off, their bed was fully fitted with a Tempurpedic Memory Foam mattress — where exactly the original crusty, rock-hard mattress the rest of us plebeians got went is still a mystery to this day. Instead of a perennially empty Brita Jug, they had a Sodastream machine with its own special table by the mini-fridge. Instead of one portable speaker that would never be loud enough, they had a whole surround sound system installed in the room. Instead of a haphazard collection of Redbubble posters, they had autographed posters that were signed, “Love, Bella Hadid” and “Call Me! xoxo Kourtney Kardashian Barker.” And instead of a tiny rug from Bed, Bath, and Beyond, they had somehow gotten the whole room outfitted with pastel pink shag carpeting.
I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt — maybe they were just good at interior design and had a lot of coupons. They probably had gotten the posters as part of some Etsy deal. Right?
I became more suspicious after looking for the bottle of Svedka they hid in the back of their closet during ResLife inspections, when I saw a few Prada bags hanging from a hook in the back. But I stayed in denial — maybe they were knockoffs?
As October’s three-day weekend approached, they hit us with the most shocking revelation of all: they wanted to do an NYC trip. I am not unjust — doing a little NYC weekend moment doesn’t inherently mean you’re loaded, but the AirBnB link they sent to the group chat was $1000 per night. But we still continued to assume the best. Maybe they just struggle with numbers? Don’t we all?
However, like all good things, my period of blissful ignorance had to come to an end. The moment I couldn’t be in denial anymore was when they mentioned their plans to “summer” in Italy. With the usage of “summer” as a verb, my suspicions were confirmed: my friend was in fact loaded. While they do that, I’ll be working at my hometown ice-cream shop. And will never make the mistake of socializing there.