1. You fear that they can smell the sex on you.

Sneaking into your pad in the slut-shaming light of 7 a.m. on a Sunday is a decidedly brutal venture. Your parents aren’t aggressively early weekend wakers, but somehow, they’re always up an’ at ‘em when you roll in with your heels in your hands, smelling suspiciously of Old Spice and indignity.

2. On that note, taking someone home is a near-impossibility.

Which sucks. Which truly sucks because it means you’re very much reliant on this guy’s parent-free, weird roommate-full lifestyle. Unless your parents are out of town, in which case you’re chilllllin.

3. You have to define v nebulous terms like “alcoholism.”

I don’t know, dad… does it mean I’m an alcoholic if I casually kill four Moscow Mules at dinner when you’re footing the bill? Sounds more like you’re dealing with an *opportunist, if you ask me.

4. …And explain why, no, your ritualistic consumption of Bloody Marys at 11 a.m. on Saturdays and Sundays does not prove dad’s point.

Don’t you get it, guys? This is, like, more than a drink. It’s like…food. And medicine. As in, I need this for medicinal purposes. As in, I will literally die a hangover-related death if I don’t have at least two of these right now. As in, please, let me live.

5. You receive sassy texts at 11 p.m. inquiring about your whereabouts.

As a 20-something either fresh off the college boat or in the dawn of your final semesters, having to answer to your parents in the middle of a Saturday night wine binge about when you “plan on” coming homing is literally the worst. You try to remind them that they’re not exactly in the habit of grilling you about your ETA when you’re back at school, but this reminder obviously only prompts a furious “our house, our rules” response. You can’t win this one, kiddo. Just swallow the remainder of your teenage rebel pride and answer as respectfully (and coherently) as your drunk digits are able.

6. …And if/when that text comes on a Monday night, you have to remind them that “Yes, guys, I realize I have work tomorrow morning. Thank you for the heads-up.”

“Where are you and when exactly do you plan on coming home, Tatiana? You have work tomorrow.” Oh REALLY, mom? DO I have work tomorrow? I didn’t realize… like literally thank god you reminded me. Now, leave me alone. I’m getting wasted on boxed Pinot with some of my very responsible, very mature 20-something friends.

7. You have to re-adjust to micromanagement.

With several years of college (and sweet, sweet independence) under your belt, it’ll take you a minute to re-acclimate to the cold chill of mom hovering over you as she protests your renegade egg-scrambling strategy. Grab a sweater, lil’ bitch. Her incessant micro-criticisms are—much like your financially-dependent, clueless post-grad ass—here to stay.

8. Apparently, you have a bedtime again!

You’ll cringe from the sharp sting of nagging-induced acid reflux as your dad quietly barges in to get you off of Reddit and into bed. Daaaaad, come on dude, level with me here… no matter how sound your argument is, do you really think I’m ever going to go to sleep before 1 a.m.? Nahhhhh… so let’s stop pretending. Love u.

9. You fly under the radar to avoid getting bitched at…but then you leave one dish out and mom rides in with a horse and sword to kill u.

Tread lightly and always wear the appropriate armor.

10. You forget your parents have their own lives/plans that don’t necessarily involve you.

Um…what do you mean you’re going to dinner and drinks with just Pam and John? That sounds fun…I wanna come…?!

11. You’re back to getting grilled on your outfit choices.

“I don’t know, sweetie… I think we really need to but a bra under that top, don’t we?” No, MOTHER. “We” don’t. Pleeease don’t discourage me to #freethenipple. My boobs and I look bomb, and I think “we” both know it.

12. You’re constantly reminded that you’re hella poor.

I get it, guys. I’m a spoiled goddamn brat who probably shouldn’t be spending her biweekly minimum wage paycheck on 50 dollar dinners, 20 dollar vodka Red Bulls, and…weed. But, hey, I got really good grades last semester! Supplement my ill-spent income for a little longer…please???

13. Having grown to expect a stocked pantry/fridge and a home-cooked meal when you get home from work, you’re rattled on the occasion that these expectations are not met.

Dad?! Hi… it’s me. Just wondering, um, WHEN YOU PLAN ON COMING HOME BECAUSE I’M HUNGRY AND USELSS AND WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO STARVE AND I MISS YOUUU! Take a breath and remember Seamless is a thing, you lazy, ridiculous little psycho.

14. You have to deal with searing guilt trips when, no, you can’t go see the new exhibit at the MET because you already have brunch plans.

Sorry, mom! It’s not you… it’s the basic bitch in me getting tempted by promise of avocado toast and mimosas.

15. You’re never allowed to sleep in.

Gone are lazy Saturdays marked by 2 p.m. wake-ups and as little physical activity as humanly possible. Sleep a minute past 10 a.m. and risk having your morning butchered by the incredibly real threat of a “RISE ‘N’ SHINE, SWEETHEART” song and dance—written, choreographed, and performed solo by your deeply weird and disturbing matriarch.

16. …Or, like, just generally be a lazy piece of shit.

Do you miss wasting away while re-watching every fuuuuucking episode of Friends on Netflix while you should probably be, like, exercising or applying for jobs or something? I bet you do! But, alas, your parents support you under the condition that you’re productive and mostly mobile. Time to get your shit together, boo boo.

17. You have to meet your parents’ standards of cleanliness.

Guys, let’s get real here: I’m gross, I’ve always been gross, and—you guessed it!—I’ll always be gross. Let’s maybe start by getting me to floss and/or stop contaminating my sheets with the subway-stank of my “street clothes” before we try to wheel me into making my bed every morning? Like, honestly… stop being actually crazy right now.

18. If you’re single, you have to deal with relentless “So, should we make a plate for your boyfriend?!” jokes.

Ha-ha, mom, I get it… I’m single and a loser unlike you and your hilarious husband. But yeah, do me a favor and make a plate… just FYI he’s 42 and, no, don’t call him Dante. He prefers to go by Big D. (HA-HA!!!)

19. You forget that your house isn’t actually your house.

Having to consult with your parents before you invite the girls over for drinks or let the boys crash on your couch is a minor pain in the ass. You’re a 20-something, goddammit! You want to have your own place with your own rules, governed by the overarching policy of Not Giving A Shit. But, sadly, you’re a barely-employed 20-something with no credit score and a perpetual hangover, so give your parents a break—they’re a pair of angels for putting up with your ratchet ass.