August 9th 2015. The Cosmos Club, located in Washington D.C. is one of America’s top ten private social clubs. Its dress code is restricted to suits and formal attire only, and its visitors include three Presidents, two Vice Presidents, a dozen Supreme Court justices, 36 Nobel Prize winners, 61 Pulitzer Prize winners, 55 recipients of the Presidential Medal of Freedom, and now, me. There’s something addictive about being independent and rebellious, and disobeying my parents' command to stay at home while they were at work made the adrenaline flood my blood stream. Adults don't let anyone but themselves be in the c***pit of their plane.
The beautiful building treated me like a grown up. Bowls full of apples and customized mints were placed strategically around the lobby, and crystal water goblets sat on vintage tables. Even the restroom asked politely if I wanted to powder my face like an aristocratic lady. I did, thank you very much.  Never before had I felt so elegant and self-empowered. I left elatedly; my pockets and hands filled with candy and monogrammed goodies, pledging to come back, perhaps even as a full-fledged adult member.
April 16th 2015. In addition to basking in luxury adults may also have mature relationships between themselves.  Little kids are forbidden to touch, and sex is pushed as the road to damnation. So, instead of pursuing romance I initially focused on academics and made the fateful decision to attend Model UN that previous spring. Little did I know that it was secretly the hub of all things perverse. I had been sheltered from this sort of thing up until that point, since my parents made sure to involve themselves in every aspect of my social life, no matter how intimate. But now, I was alone, and had four days away from parental curiosity.
Model United Nations is known for its incredibly organized and responsible student members (in conference). However, once let loose on campus in their sexy stilettos and trendy ties, these teens are indescribably wild. A mere freshman at the time, I was excluded from the more serious activities, but was not denied my share of the rowdiness. I eagerly looked forward to the delegate dance, as I had heard raunchy rumors about the methods of entertainment that had been previously unavailable to me. At this point I had already had my first kiss, and wasn’t entirely naive, but it had all been under the regulation of my parents, who expected me to report back to them with a summary of my ‘progress’. At Model UN however, there were plenty of hidden corners in which a teens might share their passion with each other secretly. Making out in a grimy and cramped alcove is not for little kids, no. And if a child does do it, then through the act itself they must undoubtedly become grownups.
2011. Adults are allowed to be left on their own. My parents first allowed me to be home alone at 10 years old for an hour at a time, which quickly became my favorite part of the day. I was the caretaker and defender of my house. I was the one who would call the police in an emergency. I had been given a responsibility and I took it very seriously.
On one occasion I even faced a terror so horrifying I nearly screamed. I had heard an unnatural noise coming from the bowels of my dark and chilly house, and in my mind there was a solid chance a burglar had stolen inside. Suddenly the loud creaking sound repeated in the pitch black hallway.
“Mooom? Daaad?......”I called out. No one answered. I grabbed a flashlight and began creeping down the hallway as if I was the heroine in a Nancy Drew book. The groaning noise seemed to be coming from the basement so I ran down and slowly opened the door...but no one was there. I had made a complete fool of myself over a small noise, so I took a deep breath, turned on the light and stopped my theatrics. I then shut off the A/C to get rid of my scared shivering. Five minutes later the noise was gone and I was back in my murder mystery book. I never did figure out what the sound was, however, ever since that dangerous scare, I learned to be the best “damn” home defender there ever was.
2005. An adult is self-sufficient, with a steady income. At 5 years old I was deemed old enough to receive wages, and my first paycheck came in the form of a weekly one dollar bill. These were the big bucks so I had to make sure I budgeted my money carefully. 20 cents for savings, 30 for the school store and the grand sum of 50 was set aside for the biweekly gum purchase. I could buy anything in the world as long as it was under a buck. Sometimes, I bought Juicy Fruit, and then shared it with my mother. Sometimes, I was rebellious and purchased the “Trident Bubblegum” brand. And sometimes, I just bought nothing. Such was my power. My world was broadened; I could even get my own bike, (if I saved for a whole year). I don’t think even my parents truly understood what a capitalist they had just created.
2000-2003. The grown up is able to control their emotions with ease. I could easily observe this in the adults that moved around my cradle. They always smiled at me, laughed with me, and I never once saw an upside down grin. Adults were perfect. Like the God they always mentioned they hovered over me, and sustained my life. They didn’t cry so neither did I. I played my first ever round of copycat with my adults.
And I would keep on playing until I won. I lived by the rules of the game: I’d have money, time to be lonely, meaningless romances and control of all of my bad decisions and fake emotions.

Would I be an adult then?