And if you’re gonna drop out of school, maybe it’s time to move back home. You know what I love about a guy who lives at home (besides his curfew)? I love the mountain of fresh, neatly folded, sweatpants that his mom left at the foot of his bead, and the way she recapped his toothpaste, and the vacuum tracks in the carpet. I love the rush of fucking with the pillow over my head, slowly, so the headboard doesn’t make noise either. As an added bonus, the breakfast service in the morning is top notch.