Collegiate Times

Jamie Martyn/Collegiate Times

Now when I visit my parents’ house, it’s not a matter of doing chores, having an early bedtime, or cloistering any bad habits I might have picked up in the last six years. We play Apples to Apples for hours on end, sing karaoke as Dad shreds on his custom Peavey guitar or we have a few beers and share stories around the fire pit. Now our relationship is very relaxed, unlike the twisted familial drama that played out my freshman year.

But for the most part, parents understand the collegiate lifestyle, as they were your age once. When you become an adult, barriers tend to break down.

For example, I’ve partied with some of my friends’ parents. When your friend’s dad, whom you still call “Mister,” whoops you on Champs’ air hockey table, or when a feisty mom is the star pong player at the party, you know that the dynamic has changed since high school.

Sharing these experiences with parents reaffirms that our folks can understand and treat us as fun-loving adults.

But some parents remain the dreaded “parental units.”

Once, I had dinner with a roommate’s rigid parents, and it was like going to O’Charley’s with Stalin and Mao. I was absolutely terrified of how I might offend them and the possible repercussions. I couldn’t even joke that my hobbies included “drinking” and “making poor decisions.” I sat still and chewed silently on my steak the entire time.

To those with “parental units,” I must congratulate you for being the ultimate hide-and-seek champions. Concealment of your collegiate vices from your parents takes a level of restraint that I couldn’t hope to possess. It’s painful enough for me to rein in my potty mouth, let alone keep a better part of my life secret from the people who used to change my diapers.

Of course, maybe you don’t have to worry. Maybe you’re like I used to be — a saint. But if your parents just think you’re one, don’t be shy about grabbing your friends’ parents and forming a devastating flip-cup team.

Trust me, it’s OK. When we’re our parents’ age, I bet we’ll be doing the exact same thing — for old time’s sake.

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