Morality and Growing Up

Saturday Morning, 11:23AM.  My roommate Rachna just walked in.  She's holding her heels in one hand, and a gargantuan bottle of Gatorade in the other.  She looks like a wreck and smells worse, like alcohol and the flavor "red" (whatever that is).  About twice a semester, Rachna will get wasted at a party, go home with the first guy that gives her attention, and engage in animalistic sex for hours upon hours.  I never know what to say to her.  Part of me wants to scold her.  To remind her that our body is a temple and sex should be treated as sacred, as an expression of love. I sound like my mother.  The other part of me wants to ask her about every detail and live vicariously through her.  To enjoy her embrace of being a woman, with a free will, spirit, and body.  I want this freedom too.  Or maybe I want the idea of freedom.