Hide Your Candy From Me

Now that I’m done with college I’ve started to read a lot more (sign I’m transitioning into adulthood number 1 of 300). Right now I’m reading Jack Kerouac’s classic novel On The Road. For those who haven’t read it, it chronicles the cross-country adventures (and misadventures) of Sal Paradise. Throughout his adventures Sal encounters a slew of interesting characters which got me thinking of all the people I’ve met over the years, whether through school, activities, or social. If I’ve learned one thing in my life it’s that the world is filled with some pretty odd humans. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for being different and marching to the beat of your own drum, but there are some people whose behavior has left me feeling completely dumbfounded: are you a real person or are you just messing with everyone? This also happens to be how I’m feeling about Miley Cyrus at the moment. Now I’d like to share a story about one particular person who had this same effect on me, and how my love of candy got me into a bit of trouble.

Let me take you back to my Freshman year at Miami, a time I really don’t like revisiting, because to be honest, it wasn’t that great. Part of the reason was because my roommate was about as fun as a trip to the DMV.

Martha (name has been changed) was my freshman year roommate. She ran track at Miami and owned at least seven track suits (maybe one for each day of the week?) Anyway, she was pretty shy and kept to herself mostly, although she did have a boyfriend with whom she talked on the phone with EVERY night at around 10 (I talked to my BF* at 9 to avoid overlapping). Martha and I were like night and day, making it difficult for us to connect.


Amongst all of our differences, there was one thing Martha and I agreed on and that was that candy was good. Martha loved candy so much, she even had a stash of candy hidden away in her closet in a plastic bin. She had enough candy to last her the entire year: Kit Kats, Skittles, Reese’s and Snickers. The roommate situation was going just fine until one weekend when I made the defining mistake of breaking into her candy stash.

One weekend while Martha was away for a track meet I went out for a few hours and came back to the room slightly inebriated and extremely hungry, and with one thing on my mind: BOYS! Just kidding, it was candy that was on my mind (the road to putting on the freshman fifteen was in full-swing at this point). I decided it would be okay to take just one piece of candy. Then after one, I rationalized, “what’s one more?” I ate five pieces of candy before going to sleep and woke up surrounded by candy wrappers. Cue the moral hangover.

I thought she wouldn’t notice…but of course she did. I imagined she counted each individual piece in hopes that a situation like this may occur. Martha confronted me the day after she returned from the track meet. She actually sat me down and berated me for 10 minutes over five delicious fun-sized candy bars. I said I was sorry and that I would replace them immediately. She snapped back with some snide remark along the lines of:  ”Yeah, you better.” I replaced her precious candy and even threw in a few extra Kit Kat bars as a sort of peace offering…one might say I was asking her to “give me a break.” Unfortunately my efforts at reestablishing the peach went unanswered and from then on there was an air of hostility that overwhelmed our room. When all’s said and done, do I regret taking her candy? Absolutely not. I live life with no regrets, only lessons learned. In this case, I learned not to mess with a track star and her candy.